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Pilgrimage of Lady de Valery. 

See page 41. 


c 







ELFREDA 


A SEQUEL TO LEOFWINE. 



By EMMA LESLIE, 

M 

Author of “ Glaucia,” “ Flavia,” “ Quadratus,” “Ayesha,” etc. 


FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



NELSON & PHILLIPS. 

CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL DEPARTMENT. 

UrE 


Tr 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 
NELSON & PHILLIPS, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


PREFACE 


I T has been deemed advisable in this sixth 
volume of The Church History Stories ” 
to append a chronological table in the place of 
an introduction, as was done in Quadratus,’' 
linking this to the period at which the latter 
closed. In this table, as in the former, only a 
few of the principal events connected with the 
Church can be given 

A. D, 


Pope Innocent I. asserts the Supremacy of the Church 

of Rome 402 

Pelagianism taught in the Church 417 

Nestorius teaches his heresy 418 

The Western Empire ends 468 

Gregory the Great 590 

Sends Augustine to England 597 

Conversion of the Lombards to Christianity. 599 

Rise of Mohammedanism 622 

The Koran declares War against all Nations 630 

The Conquest of Damascus and Jerusalem by the Sara- 
cens 636 

Conquest of Persia 651 

Conquest of Africa 698 


Edict published by the Emperor against the Worship 
of Images • 


726 


6 


Preface. 


A. D. 


The Pope of Rome resists, and is condemned by the 

Council of Constantinople 730 

The Emperor Excommunicated by the Council of Rome. 730 

Severance of the Eastern and Western Churches 73 T 

Charlemagne reforms the Western Empire . . . 800 

Italy invaded by the Saracens 847 

The false Decretals published by the Pope 867 

Marriage of the Clergy forbidden 1018 

The Election of the Pope transferred from the Laity and 
inferior Clergy to the Cardinals, and Beranger con- 
demned 1059 

Two Popes in Rome 1061 

The Norman Conquest of England 1066 

Henry, Emperor of Germany, in the garb of a Penitent, 


stands three days at the gate of the Castle of Canossa 
begging the Clemency of Pope Gregory, and the 


Restoration of his Crown 1076 

Peter the Hermit preaches the first Crusade 1094 


From this period it was an inveterate, almost 
an uncontested, tenet that wars for religion were 
holy and Christian. The unbeliever was the 
natural enemy of the Church, and if not con- 
verted, to be massacred or exterminated by the 


sword. 

A. D. 

St. Bernard preaches the Second Crusade 1146 

Massacre of the Jews in Germany 1147 

Death of St Bernard 1153 

Thomas ^ Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, claims im- 
munity of the Clergy from the action of the Com- 
mon Law 1163 

Constitutions of Clarendon, reversing this, granted by 

King Henry, of England.. 1164 


Preface. 


7 


A. D. 


Thomas a Becket cites the King to appear before him. 1165 

Murder of k Becket 1170 

Canonization of k Becket. 1172 

Henry performs penance at a Becket’s tomb ii74 

Pope Innocent III. publishes a Bull asserting the Civil 

and Religious Outlawry of all Heretics 1198 

Orders another Crusade 1199 

Constantinople taken, and the Pope declared head of 

the Eastern Church 1203 

Raymond, Count of Toulouse, compelled to take Oath 

against all Heretics 1204 

Byzantine Empire and Eastern Church re-established. . 1206 

Albigensian War began 1208 

England placed under an Interdict 1208 

Penance of Count Raymond 1209 

Simon de Montfort declared Sovereign Prince of Tou- 
louse ... 1212 

King John resigns his Crown, and the Kingdoms of En- 
gland and Ireland, to hold them thenceforth as the 

vassal of Pope Innocent and his Successors 1213 

Magna Charta obtained 1215 


l?):|inoipal 


HENRY II. 

WILLIAM LONGBEARD. 
SIMON de MONTFORT. 
PRINCE ALEXIS. 
COUNT RAYMOND. 
DOMINIC de GUZMAN. 
KING JOHN. 
PANDULPH. 


RICHARD I. 

HUBERT GAULTIER. 
COUNT THIEBAULT. 
POPE INNOCENT III. 
PETER CASTELNAU. 
KING PHILIP. 
STEPHEN LANGTON. 
GROSSETESTE. 


CONTENTS, 


Chapter Page 

I. Lady de Valery ii 

II. A Visitor 23 

III. The Pilgrimage 34 

IV. William Longbeard 47 

V. The Coronation of King Richard 60 

VI. At Crowland Abbey 76 

VII. The Curse of the Ericsons 89 

Vin. The Challenge 102 

IX. The Tournament 115 

X. The Old Jew 129 

XI. Another Crusade 142 

XII. Guy de Valery’s Vow 160 

XIII. The Lay Sister 176 

XIV. At the Convent 190 

XV. The Secret Meeting 203 

XVI. Dominic de Guzman 216 

XVII. At Beziers 23; 

XVIII. An Unexpected Meeting................. 244 


lo Contents. 

Chapter Paqb 

XIX. The Wounded Knight 257 

XX. Outlawed by the Church 269 

XXI. At Bourne Once More 281 

XXII. Conclusion 294 

< 


Pilgrimage of Lady de Valery • 2 

A Preaching Friar 153 

The Doge refusing to let the Venetians De- 
part 157 

The Friendly Greek Monk 163 

Count Raymond’s Presence in Church 227 


ELFEEDA. 


CHAPTER I. 

LADYDEVALERY. 

ES, I am Saxon, unmistakably Saxon,'* 



, A and the lady sighed as she glanced at 
her fair, shapely, but not very small hands and 


feet. 


She lifted her eyes from her offending hands 
in a minute or two, and looked across the un- 
dulating pastures to the woods beyond. From 
her elevated position on the turret of her cas- 
tle-home she could see every object for miles 
around, and she gazed long and steadfastly at 
the curling wreaths of smoke that rose from an 
irregular group of buildings on the edge of the 
distant wood. I wonder, I wonder — " she be- 
gan, but there she suddenly stopped, for one of 
her bower maidens drew near, and the Lady de 
Valery would not have one of her attendants 
overhear her self-communing for half her jewels. 
She fondly thought that they believed she was a 


12 


Elfreda. 


Norman, and not one of the despised race whom 
the conquerors of England had made “ hewers 
of wood and drawers of water” when they pro- 
claimed themselves masters of the soil ; but if 
her servants and attendants did not know that 
the long, low-roofed farm-house just within view 
was her childhood's home, the lady herself never 
forgot it, nor her haughty lord neither, although 
both were careful to conceal the fact from the 
knowledge of their children. Sometimes a wish 
had entered the lady's heart that the old home- 
stead would be burned down in one of the quar- 
rels that were perpetually occurring between 
the followers of the two families, for her brother 
as heartily despised the Norman usurpers of the 
land as they did the conquered race, and into 
this feeling theows and house-carls, lithsmen 
and pages, entered, each espousing the cause of 
his master, and showing his enmity to the other 
upon every possible occasion. 

Sir Valence de Valery would, doubtless, have 
preferred that the humble home of his beautiful 
wife had been at a greater distance from his 
lordly castle ; but he was too true a knight to 
take any mean advantage, or allow his followers 
to do more than carry off a few head of cattle 
or sheep by way of reprisals for some infringe- 
ment of his rights as lord of the woods and 


Lady de Valery. 13 

plains from Crowland minster to the village of 
Bourne. 

It might have been otherwise, and, doubtless, 
was in the earlier years of the Norman rule ; for 
the stalwart Saxon had been compelled to labor 
at the building of these mighty Norman keeps, 
and thei\, when they were finished, evil men 
took possession of them, and robbed and op- 
pressed all who came within their reach. But 
there had been an end of most of these evil 
practices since Sir Valence had succeeded to 
his inheritance, for he was a sworn knight of 
chivalry, and by his vows he was pledged to 
defend the helpless and oppressed — not to wrong 
any man by false speech or robbery — and, un- 
like many of his brother knights, he believed 
his vow included the defense of even the down- 
trodden Saxon race as well as the honor of 
haughty Norman dames ; and so with as much 
honor and reverence as he would have wedded 
a Norman lady of his own rank, had he wooed 
and won Alftruda Ericson, the Saxon. 

Many years had passed since she came, a shy, 
girlish bride, to live within the strong, gloomy 
looking castle she had often shuddered at be- 
fore, and sons and daughters had been born to 
them, who were taught all the arts and accom- 
plishments deemed needful for Norman knights 


14 


Elfreda. 


and ladies, with the usual scorn for the con- 
quered race. 

It was not often that the Lady de Valery in- 
dulged in such a reverie as then occupied her 
mind, for she generally banished all thought 
of her old home and relatives as quickly as they 
arose ; but now these thoughts woyld not be 
dispelled try as she would, and so she had 
given herself up to them until interrupted by 
the appearance of her bower maiden. 

‘‘ My lady, a messenger bearing a letter awaits 
thee in the great hall,’’ said the maid. 

Send the messenger to me,” commanded 
the lady in an imperious tone, “or bring the 
letter thyself” 

“ Nay, but the child will not give up the let- 
ter to any but the Lady de Valery herself ; she 
is so commanded by — ” 

“ Nay, trouble me not with such whimsies, 
but fetch the letter hither and I will read it 
anon,” interrupted the lady. 

To venture a further protest would proba- 
bly bring a sharp blow from the lady’s spin- 
dle, which hung at her side, and so the maid 
turned at once and descended the steep wind- 
ing stairs built in the thickness of the outer 
wall. 

But in a few minutes she returned again 


Lady de Valery, 15 

with empty hands. ‘'The girl will not part 
with the letter, my lady,’' she said. 

“ The messenger is a girl ! ” exclaimed her 
mistress, “and will not deliver her missive to 
thy keeping } ” 

“She saith it is of such moment that she 
should see the Lady de Valery herself, and 
that her — ” 

“ Lead her to the bower,” commanded her 
mistress, “ I will see her ere long and she 
turned once more to gaze at the distant farm- 
house, and wonder why it was she could not 
divest herself of the unwelcome thoughts that 
would obtrude themselves upon her mind. 

“ Perhaps this messenger and her letter may 
drive away the strange foreboding that seems 
to be creeping over me ! ” exclaimed the lady 
after some little time ; and she rose from her 
seat and descended to her bower, where her 
maids were busy with distaff and spindle, and 
where, as she expected, her visitor awaited her. 

One glance, however, at the fair, childish face 
made the lady tremble and shiver with an un- 
defined apprehension of coming evil ; and before 
she took the letter she commanded her bower 
maidens to withdraw, and as they silently 
obeyed she secured the heavy oaken door with 
its wooden latch, and drew the tapestry curtain 


i6 


Elfreda. 


before it. Then she stepped back and took the 
letter mechanically, her eyes still riveted on the 
girl’s face. '' From whence hast thou come, 
child ? ” she asked at length. 

From Jerusalem,” answered the girl in a 
low, sweet voice, speaking in French with a 
better accent than the lady herself. 

Lady de Valery started. '' From Jerusalem ! ” 
she exclaimed. “And thy mother and grand- 
father, child ? ” 

“ They are dead,” whispered the girl. “ They 
died in the dreadful siege, before Saladin and 
his hosts of paynim soldiers took the holy 
city.” 

The lady seemed to breathe more freely, and 
she glanced at the unopened letter she still held 
in her hand. “ Thy mother is dead ! ” she re- 
peated, “ and thy grandfather too ! Did they 
bid thee bring this letter to me ? ” 

“ My mother bade me bring it to her sis- 
ter, the Lady de Valery,” answered the girl, 
looking full in the proud lady’s face as she 
spoke. 

“ Hush, hush, child ! be not rash in thy 
speech concerning this matter,” said the lady 
quickly ; and, to hide her confusion and gain 
time to arrange her thoughts, she retired to a 
distant window to read the letter. 


Lady de Valery. 


17 


But the reading of this seemed to add to her 
perplexity, and before she read to the end she 
crushed it in her hand, and came back again to 
where the girl sat. 

Dost thou know aught concerning the con- 
tents of this missive } ” she asked. 

'' Yes ; the good brother who wrote it read it 
aloud to my mother as her head rested on my 
shoulder just before she died.” 

‘‘Was the ‘good brother' a monk.?” asked 
the lady. 

“A monk and a knight — one of the noble 
brethren of the Hospital of St. John,” answered 
the girl. 

This answer seemed to perplex and annoy the 
lady more than any thing that had been said 
before. “ I am ruined, disgraced ! ” she mental- 
ly exclaimed. “ Every knight in England will 
know that I am a Saxon, and every proud Nor- 
man dame will take her seat at the tournament 
before me ;” and Lady de Valery marched up and 
down the room, kicking the rushes and sweet 
herbs that were strewn upon the floor in every 
direction. For nearly half an hour^she so paced, 
and then, casting her eyes upon the hour-glass 
that stood near, she suddenly stopped. “ My 
children will be here very soon,” she said. “ I 
cannot give thee an answer concerning this let- 


i8 


Elfreda. 


ter now — not until Sir Valence hath seen it. 
Thou mayst come to-morrow/' she added as 
the girl slowly rose from her seat. She lifted 
her soft blue eyes pleadingly to the lady's face, 
but she turned proudly away, and drawing aside 
the tapestry curtain said, as she pointed to the 
door, Be careful and discreet in thy speech 
when thou comest again and then she re- 
turned to the window once more to watch for 
the return of her children from their ramble 
in the garden. 

In a few minutes they came trooping in — 
two boys and three girls — almost too eager to 
pay the accustomed reverence on entering their 
mother's presence, for each was anxious to tell 
the wonderful news of the arrival of a holy 
palmer, who had come straight from the Holy 
Land, bringing with him news that made every 
Christian heart stand still with affright, for the 
holy city had been retaken by the Saracens 
after being a Christian kingdom eighty-eight 
years. 

These were all the facts the young de Vale- 
rys had heard, but the boys were eager with 
their questions. 

My mother, will there be another crusade, 
and will Guy go to fight the evil paynim 
hosts ? " they asked. 


19 


Lady de Valery. . 

The lady started, and turned pale at the 
question. '' Guy ! Where is he } ” she asked, 
looking round the room, for this last suggestion 
concerning her eldest, her darling son, added 
to her previous perplexity, seemed to have con- 
fused her mind entirely. 

The children looked at each other, and then 
at their mother’s pale face. 

Has Guy come home from Lincoln V' asked 
Gilbert. 

Home ! Nay, nay, thou knowest he is es- 
quire to Sir Hugh de Lancy,” replied the lady 
petulantly, recalling her scattered senses. 

If there is another crusade, and Sir Hugh 
should lead his knights to the holy war, then 
Guy would go too, would he not, my mother V 

But the lady could only shake her head. 

The- saints preserve us from another cru- 
sade !” she said at length, and then, hastily dis- 
missing her children, she sent one of her maids 
to inquire whether her 'husband had returned 
from the abbey of Crowland, where he had been 
to consult with the prior about the inclosing of 
some lands. The girl soon came back, and Sir 
Valence with her, and as soon as the lady and 
knight were left alone, she began her story by 
telling him of the arrival of the palmer. 

‘"Yes, I have heard the direful news, and 
2 


20 


Elfreda. 


already my men are furbishing their arms, as 
though Saladins were at the castle gates. But 
thou hast had another visitor to-day, Alftruda 
suddenly added the knight, pausing in his rest- 
less walk up and down the room. 

''Yes, I have a letter brought by — by — ” 
and there the lady hesitated. 

" Brought by thy sister’s child,” said the 
knight somewhat sternly. 

The lady looked up in his face. " How 
knowest thou she is my sister’s child she 
asked. 

But instead of replying to her question he 
asked, " What is this curse that is said to rest 
upon thy house — the curse of the Ericsons ? I 
heard naught concerning it until to-day from 
the prior of Crowland.” 

" There is no curse now ! ” almost shrieked 
the lady ; " it was but a Norman lie against a 
Saxon monk, and, to take the curse from his 
children, my father died close to the holy 
tomb.” 

" And thou hast known this, Alftruda, and 
kept the secret from me said Sir Valence in 
a grieved tone. 

The lady’s proud head drooped beneath her 
husband’s searching gaze ; but at length, with 
an inward shiver, she said, " How could I tell 


Lady de Valery. 


21 


thee, Valence, that our house was under the 
spell of the evil one; nathless, too, my father 
had redeemed it from the power of Satan by 
prayers and fastings and penances at the sacred 
sepulcher.” 

The knight looked pityingly on his wife as 
she said this. “ Didst thou know aught con- 
cerning thy father s vow, Alftruda — did he tell 
thee of this before he went away ? ” 

‘‘ He told me the story of the curse even as I 
have heard it since from the prior of Crowland, 
for this ancestor who brought the curse upon 
our race was a monk of Crowland, and spoke 
slightingly concerning the power of St. Guthlac, 
who had shown great favor to our family,” said 
the lady. 

“This recreant monk was also accused of 
witchcraft, as well as of teaching strange doc- 
trines to all who came near him, saying the 
pope was only a proud, evil man, and that it 
was not lawful to pray to the saints and vir- 
gin, besides many other heresies condemned by. 
holy Church. Was this the accusation thou 
didst hear.?” 

The lady bowed her head. “ But it was 
Norman against Saxon, and we know how 
cruelly — ” 

“ Nay, but, Alftruda, thy father believed it or 


22 


Elfreda. 


he would not have vowed to take the curse 
away ; and now, alack ! his vow hath been 
broken, for this child should have died within 
the walls of Jerusalem, and not have returned 
to her kindred/' 

Then she hath brought the curse back with 
her!" gasped the lady. 

The knight looked pityingly on his wife’s 
horror-stricken face. wish thou hadst told 
me this story before," he said gently, and then, 
by way of comfort, he added, There will, doubt- 
less, be another crusade, Alftruda, and so the 
curse may yet be averted from our children." 


A Visitor. 


23 


CHAPTER 11. 


A VISITOR. 



HE consultation over the letter brought to 


-L Lady de Valery was a long one, but it was 
decided at length that the request it contained 
must be complied with, and Elfreda, the little 
orphan of Jerusalem, received into their family. 
What position she should occupy would be a 
matter of after consideration, and one the lady 
herself would decide. At present she would 
be expected to wait upon her cousins, who were 
about her own age, thread embroidery needles 
for her aunt, or help the bower maidens to pol- 
ish the bright steel mirrors that adorned the 
walls of their mistress’s room. 

All this was explained to Elfreda when she 
came the next day, and the little girl bowed her 
head in silent acquiescence of the plan ; but she 
refused obedience to one command the lady 
wished to impose upon her — she would not 
promise to forget her connection with her un- 
cle and cousins at the low, thatched farm-house 
close at hand, or deny her father’s relatives, 
because they, too, were Saxon merchants of 


24 


Elfreda. 


London. In all else she was willing to yield 
obedience, even to remaining silent about her 
parentage, and being born in the sacred city. 

The palmer, however, who had traveled in the 
same company as Elfreda, was not so discreet in 
his speech as Lady de Valery wished, for while he 
was entertained in the great hall with wine and 
savory dishes sent specially from the upper table 
to him, he recounted to his nearest neighbors 
some of the scenes he had witnessed, especially 
enlarging upon that of the capture of the holy 
city, and how the paynim conqueror, Saladin, 
had burst into tears as the long line of orphans 
and widows issued from the gates of Jerusalem. 

They were of right his prisoners, and might 
have been taken to the slave markets of Egypt 
or Bagdad,’' said the monk ; but with the 
mercy of a Christian knight rather than a pay- 
nim infidel, he set them all free, and I brought 
to England one little girl, who is of kin to the 
Lady de Valery.” 

Of course the story did not lose any thing by 
being passed from lip to lip among the servants 
and retainers ; and so, as soon as . Elfreda ap- 
peared among them, she was known as the 

Orphan of Jerusalem.” Her cousins, of course, 
soon heard the story, but to them it seemed too 
marvelous to be true. 


A Visitor. 


25 


'' She is only a girl with fair hair and blue 
eyes, like — like — who is Elfreda like, Adelais ? 
asked her brother. 

But the young lady shook her head. I have 
not looked at her much,” she said, “ only I know 
her hands are large — larger than mine.” And 
she held out her slender, delicate hand in con- 
firmation of the fact. 

‘‘I know who she is like— the Ericsons, the 
farmer who is so proud of being a Saxon that 
he still wears a long beard like a savage,” said 
Gilbert. 

I don’t know any thing about long beards, 
or those sort of people,” said his sister, with a 
look of disdain, and I do not think Elfreda can 
be like them, as she is our cousin.” 

But Gilbert was in a mood to tease his sister 
just now: It was far more to his taste to do this 
than to learn to count his string of beads cor- 
rectly — to know what prayer each bead repre- 
sented, and was supposed to be said, as they 
dropped through his fingers, and so, while he 
idly toyed with this task set by his confessor, 
he went on teasing Adelais. 

I wish you would walk as far as the edge of 
the wood one day and look at those Ericsons. 
They were rich once, and kept servants and 
slaves too, but they have to work in the fields 


26 


Elfreda. 


themselves now, so you will be sure to see 
some of them tending the swine or driving 
the plow.” 

I have no wish to see swine-herds or plow- 
men/’ replied his sister. 

'' But I want you to go, Adelais. I want you 
to look at them, and see if you do not think 
them like our mother.” 

Our mother ! ” repeated the young lady in 
angry scorn. '^Thou sayest our mother, so 
beautiful and noble, is like a Saxon swine-herd ! 
I will tell her what thou sayest,” and before Gil- 
bert could stop her the angry girl had darted 
from the room, and was on her way down the 
winding stairs toward the terrace where her 
mother was walking. Almost breathless, with 
anger and her run together, Adelais rushed to 
her mother’s side, and was at once reproved 
for her want of reverence. 

^‘This hath occurred twice of late,” said the 
Lady de Valery, reprovingly. But though some- 
what checked, Adelais was too indignant to re- 
frain from telling her mother what had occurred. 

Nay, mother, it is Gilbert should be reproved 
for want of reverence, for he saith thou art like 
a Saxon swine-herd.” 

For a moment the contrast between the 
weather-tanned, elf-locked, unkempt swine-herd 


A Visitor. 


27 


and her own dainty self only provoked a smile 
on the lady’s face, but as she looked down at 
her daughter this gradually faded, and a death- 
like paleness came over her at the girl’s next 
words. 

My mother, Gilbert called you a Saxon,” 
which to the young lady’s ideas was worse than 
being a swine-herd. 

But before Lady de Valery could make any 
reply, Gilbert himself appeared upon the scene. 

“ My lady mother, I would not dare to think 
of you as Saxon,” said the boy, now quite as 
angry as his sister. 

Hush ! hush ! my children ; follow me to the 
bower,” said the lady, leading the way to the 
castle, and resolving to question both culprits 
as to the origin of this quarrel. She had no 
doubt in her own mind but that Elfreda was at 
the bottom of it, as in truth she was, though 
not in the way the lady supposed. 

She breathed more freely when she heard the 
whole story, and found that her children had no 
suspicion of the truth. Indeed, Gilbert was 
most vehement in his denunciation of the race. 

“ My confessor saith they are, and ever have 
been, an obstinate and recreant people, disobey- 
ing the commands of the holy father, who is to 
be worshiped as the glorified saints, and refus- 


28 


Elfreda. 


ing to give up the reading of the Scriptures, 
which was translated by their king, Alfred, and 
therefore must be full of errors, since it is not 
the work of a monk nor has it received the 
blessing of the pope.’^ 

The lady looked at her boy's hot, indignant 
face, and for one moment wished she could 
speak in defense of her people ; but she had not 
the courage to do this, though she did say, 
Be not too rash in condemning these people 
from the mouth of a Norman monk. Thou 
knowest how the old hate still rankles. But let 
us not forget that Saxon hands built Crowland 
minster before a Norman was seen in the land." 

‘‘ Nay, but, my mother, the cloisters of the 
abbey are now scarcely finished, and the masons 
came from beyond the seas — from our home in 
Normandy — to build the great stone church." 

But there was a church of timber before 
this was built ; and what is now known as the 
Isle of Wultheof was the Isle of St. Guthlac, 
and—" 

But there the lady suddenly stopped, fearing 
that for a Norman dame, who held herself aloof 
from every thing Saxon, she had already be- 
trayed, too intimate a knowledge of the old min- 
ster that had been burned down. 

But the children ’were interested in their 


A Visitor. 


29 


mother’s story of a place they knew so well, 
and pressed her to tell them more ; but the lady 
shook her head and bade them go and prepare 
their lessons, for, unlike many of their com- 
panions — their equals in station — the young 
de Valerys were learning the clerkly arts of 
reading and writing. After her children had 
departed the lady took up her embroidery, but 
the large red dragon she was depicting on the 
canvas grew very slowly under her fingers that 
day. There was a good deal of whispering 
and half-suppressed laughter from the alcove 
too, where the bower -maidens sat plying their 
spindles. 

Elfreda had been summoned from among 
them to take her seat on a low stool near the 
embroidery frame, and here she sat still as a 
mouse, holding the needle she had threaded, 
and carefully noting the lady’s care-worn, anx- 
ious face, for it was unmistakably care-worn in 
spite of its beauty. 

They were still sitting thus when the door 
suddenly opened and Sir Valence entered, and 
with him a lad about seventeen. My son, my 
Guy, what hath brought thee from Lincoln town 
to-day } ” exclaimed the lady, forgetting at once 
all her anxious, foreboding thoughts. 

I came in attendance upon my master, Sir 


30 


Elfreda. 


Hugh, and to see thee, mother mine,’' said Guy, 
warmly returning his mothers embrace, and 
glancing at Elfreda as he spoke. 

He hath brought us news, too," said the 
knight, looking proudly at his son. 

Good news I trust. Valence," said the lady 
with a slight tremor in her voice. 

Now, my lady mother, thou hast not looked 
at my braveries, and this is the handsomest 
doublet and cloak in Lincoln," said Guy, in a 
jesting tone of complaint. 

She will not see it again for many a year, 
perhaps," put in Sir Valence, by way of break- 
ing the news. 

Nay, but this paynim Saladin who hath 
v/rested the Lord's inheritance from the holy 
hands of his people will soon be cut off, and 
then, having won knightly fame, I may break 
a lance in my lady mother’s honor at the tourna- 
ment thou shalt give in honor of my return." 
The lad spoke in a gay, eager tone, but the 
mother’s heart almost stood still at his words. 

‘‘ Another crusade," she gasped, and my boy 
must be taken this time. O, Valence, will the 
curse never be removed ! " and she sank down 
upon her seat again and covered her face with 
her hands. 

Guy looked from his father to his mother, as 


A Visitor. 


31 


if asking an explanation of the strange words. 

My mother,” he said, to fight the Lord’s bat- 
tle is not a curse. The holy father hath prom- 
ised the remission of all sins, and a full escape 
from purgatory, to all who join this holy war. 
The friars are daily preaching in the market- 
place, and the hearts of all men are stirred 
within them to avenge the cruel wrongs of those 
who have perished in the fall of Jerusalem.” 

I know all thou wouldst say, my son ; and 
since it is known that Prince Richard hath 
sworn to go to Palestine, half Europe will go 
crusading mad ; while widows and orphans, and 
widows robbed of their children, will watch in 
vain for their loved ones’ return.” 

“ Nay, my mother, not robbed of their chil- 
dren ; but giving them up to the service of the 
Church to fight her battles, they will share the 
blessings of the conquerors.” 

‘‘ Nay, I want no share in such blessings,” 
said the lady passionately. “ I only ask that 
thou may St return in peace and safety. When 
dost thou depart } ” 

Nay, I know not when the great crusading 
army will be ready, but I journey hence with 
my master to-morrow, for he will cross the seas 
to visit his friends in France, and rouse them 
to follow his standard to the Holy Land.” 


32 


Elfreda. 


The lady was overwhelmed with grief at the 
thought of her son’s speedy departure, and in 
the indulgence of her own feelings she forgot 
her husband’s share in the trial, and that Guy 
himself must keenly feel the sudden sundering 
of all home ties as well as those of friendship, 
and that the lad needed some hopeful words of 
encouragement to carry away with him, rather 
than the memory of such selfish sorrow. 

Unnoticed and forgotten, Elfreda stole out of 
the room while the lady was in tears ; but she 
lingered near the door, and when her cousin 
Guy came out she ventured to speak to him. 

‘‘ My father died fighting on the walls of Jeru- 
salem,” she said simply, and he used to say his 
battle-cry was enough to make any man brave. 
Shall I tell it thee ? ” she asked. 

Hardly knowing whether he was in a dream, 
from which he should presently awake to hear 
his master’s voice calling him, Guy answered, 
‘‘ Yes.” 

'' Christ and his salvation,” said the girl sol- 
emnly, and before he could ask who she was, and 
how she came to be living in his father’s castle, 
she had glided away, and he went down to the 
great hall repeating the words, Christ and his 
salvation.” 

He was received with eager acclamation by 


A Visitor. 


33 


his father’s retainers, who had heard of his 
speedy departure, and would fain have joined 
him if they could ; and in listening to the bless- 
ing of one, and the charge of another, he could 
only ask, ‘‘ Who is the little girl who hath come 
to dwell here?” when he bade his brothers and 
sisters a hasty farewell 

Only Elfreda,” answered Adelais. '' O, Guy, 
will it be very long before the crusade is over ? ” 
I shall be an esquire before thou dost re- 
turn,” said Gilbert. 

“ Then thou shalt bear my lance at the tour- 
nament my father hath promised to give in 
honor of my return,” said Guy. 

''And I shall be the queen of beauty, Guy,” 
said Adelais 

" Thou wilt ever be that, my fair sister,” gal- 
lantly answered the young esquire, and so with 
gay words upon their lips the brothers and sis- 
ters parted ; but as Guy walked slowly over the 
draw-bridge and looked up at the battlements, 
he slowly and thoughtfully repeated the words, 
" ' Christ and his salvation.’ They are grand 
words ; I wonder where the soldier learned such 
a battle-cry.” 


34 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE PILGRIMAGE. 

I T was a busy scene upon which the morn- 
ing sun looked down in the tilt-yard of the 
castle about a week after Guy de Valery's de- 
parture. Sumpter mules were being laden with 
all kinds of baggage needful for a long journey, 
and men-at-arms were testing their short swords 
and cross-bows as in preparation for an encoun- 
ter with foes. To a stranger’s eyes it would have 
seemed that these were making ready to join 
the great crusade, or to journey through a hos- 
tile country, rather than the peaceful errand of 
going on pilgrimage to Canterbury. 

It was the Lady de Valery’s wish to undertake 
this perilous journey, for at the miracle-work- 
ing shrine of the new saint, Thomas a Becket, 
all prayers were answered, and nothing would 
satisfy the anxious mother’s heart but to jour- 
ney thither on behalf of her beloved son. The 
thought that through her Guy was half a Saxon, 
was almost a comfort now, for surely the saint 
would look with most favor on his own people 
• — he who dared the wrath of their king, to 


The Pilgrimage. 


35 


uphold the rights and privileges of the Church 
and clergy with all the boldness and daring of 
his English character — surely he would pro- 
tect her darling, who was as much English as 
Norman. 

Sir Valence loved his son, too, but he was 
not at all willing to undertake this pilgrimage 
at first. Prayers at the shrine of St. Wultheof 
or St. Guthlac in their neighboring minster of 
Crowland would be quite as well, he said, and 
with the additional offerings of a cope and altar- 
cloth to St. Dunstan, that this old English saint 
might nbt be offended, surely her prayers would 
be answered, and Guy would come back un- 
scathed, laden with honors, *and the fame of be- 
ing the bravest knight who had fought in the 
holy war. 

The times were very perilous, he said. The 
dissensions in the royal family, and open rebel- 
lion of Prince John against his father’s authori- 
ty, gave encouragement to the turbulent nobles 
who were seeking to throw off their feudal alle- 
giance, and raise themselves into petty kings 
over their own domains. The almost limitless 
power over the conquered people which the first 
William had given his knights when he por- 
tioned out the land among them, was bearing 
its legitimate fruits, and, having subdued the 
3 


36 


Elfreda. 


people, these haughty nobles were now X.xy~ 
ing to throw off all allegiance to the king, and 
wage war at their own will against their neigh- 
bors if they happened to be weaker, or there 
was any quarrel between therh. 

Sir Valence pleaded this, and that to go to Can- 
terbury he should have to pass through the ter- 
ritory of some who were hostile to him ; and 
even if they did not fall upon his train and make 
them prisoners, might take advantage of the slen- 
der garrison left at home, and by a sudden sur- 
prise carry off their children ; such things had 
been done before. But for each difficulty as it 
was proposed Lady de Valery had a remedy. 
Their children should be sent for security to 
Crowland, and she would dispense with the 
attendance of all but two bower maidens and a 
small company of men-at-arms ; and the knight, 
finding his wife so fully bent on making this 
pilgrimage, at length reluctantly consented to 
his lady’s wish, and preparations for the journey 
were commenced. 

The king himself had set the fashion of visit- 
ing the shrine of the rebellious archbishop, and 
now pilgrims from all parts of the kingdom 
were daily wending their way to the crypt of 
Canterbury minster, to offer not only their 
prayers, but costly gifts of jewels and gold cups. 


The Pilgrimage, 37 

as well as money, altar-cloths, and richly em- 
broidered vestments for priests and bishops. 

The Lady de Valery would not go empty- 
handed ; and her servants who were to join in 
the sacred service likewise took offerings of their 
own, so that two sumpter mules were laden with 
the gifts to be offered to St. Thomas a Becket, 
and, with these most carefully guarded against 
the attack of thieves, the cavalcade set forward 
one morning early in the spring of 1189. 

The lady looked back as they crossed the 
draw-bridge, and then down into the dark waters 
of the moat, and with a prayer that her boy 
might soon cross that narrow bridge and mount 
those lofty battlements again, she rode forward 
close to her husband’s side, and drew her vail 
down as if to hide all view of the obnoxious 
Saxon farm-house near which their road lay. 

The journey from the fen country to the 
chief city of England’s garden — Kent — was a 
long one, and not free from danger, for where 
the road lay through a forest they were each 
moment liable to be attacked by one of the 
numerous bands of outlaws who, driven by the 
cruel oppression of the nobles and the forest 
laws to form themselves into robber hordes, 
made these forests their resort, and set at defi- 
ance the magistracy of the country. 


38 


Elfreda. 


But, to the great relief of Sir Valence, they 
came at length within sight of the towers of 
Canterbury without having had a single brush 
with either the robber bands or hostile nobles ; 
and now that all danger was over, and the road 
almost crowded with pilgrims bent on the same 
pious errand as themselves, Lady de Valery 
proposed to alight from her palfrey, and, put- 
ting off her sandals and the rich cloth pelisse 
she wore, walk barefoot and wrapped in a coarse 
serge cloak the remainder of the journey. But 
to this her husband objected. ‘‘Thou mayst 
kneel at his shrine, since the holy father hath 
seen good to make him a saint ; but to me, as 
thou knowest, he will ever be Thomas a Becket, 
the proud, ambitious chancellor who rebelled 
against his king, who, though warned of the 
danger of raising one of this English nation to 
a position of trust and honor, would not heed 
the warning. Marry, he hath repented of his 
folly since, I trow,” added the knight. 

“Yes, right sorely hath he repented of the 
cruel deed done against holy Church and her 
brave servant, and in this he hath set an ex- 
ample to all his people which they do well to 
follow, and I trust, my lord, that thou, too, 
wilt.” 

“Walk barefoot to the proud chancellor's 


The Pilgrimage, 39 

tomb ? Never ! exclaimed Sir Valence. I tell 
thee that in setting himself m opposition to the 
king and to the enactment known as the con- 
stitutions of Clarendon, which makes the clergy 
amenable to the laws of the land, and forbids 
their appeal to the pope except by the king's 
consent, — I say that in his opposition to this, and 
in his acknowledging only the authority of the 
pope, he was guilty of treason and rebellion.” 

“ Nay, nay, call not the blessed martyr a 
rebel,” said the lady, lifting her hands in horror 
at what seemed her husband’s impiety. “ He 
was a brave, true martyr, who set himself only 
to defend the Church and the right of the holy 
father to act as, in truth he is, God’s visible 
image. Think, my Valence, what it would be 
if the king and his proud nobles could work 
their will with the Church. I have heard thee 
say many times, that but for the power the 
Church has gained no home would be safe 
from the violence of lawless men ; and that 
wives might be carried from their husbands, 
and children from their parents, if they were 
not protected by this same power, which even 
kings are forced to reverence.” 

Yes, it is as thou sayest,” acknowledged Sir 
Valence, with a sigh as he thought of the many 
evil deeds of which King Henry had been guilty 


40 


Elfreda. 


— deeds, however, that a Becket, as either chan- 
cellor or archbishop, had never been known to 
reprove ; but when the king sought to make the 
clergy amenable to the laws of justice, then the 
prelate could be bold enough in reproof. 

‘^Then, if our king reverence this power for 
which St. Thomas died a blessed martyr, surely 
we, his people, do well to follow his example. 
Thou knowest, too, that a notable miracle was 
wrought in reward for the king s humiliation, 
for even while he was praying here at the 
shrine of the saint, William, the Lion of Scot- 
land, was taken prisoner, fighting only a few 
minutes, for the blessed saint was fighting 
against him ; and therefore would I beseech the 
saint with all humility to guard my boy in this 
dangerous crusade.” 

Willful women will ever take their own way, 
I trow,” said the knight, and so the whole 
cavalcade halted, and Sir Valence had a tent 
pitched on the neighboring common, where his 
wife and her bower maidens prepared them- 
selves for this last stage of their pilgrimage. 

The lady followed to the very letter the ex- 
ample set by the king, and partook of nothing 
all day but bread and water ; and now, in the 
garb of a penitent, she set out with bare feet to 
walk the last mile of the rough road. They 


41 


The Pilgrimage. 

were swollen and bleeding before the city gates 
were reached, and each step cost her agonizing 
pain ; but the daintily-reared lady kept bravely 
forward, refusing to moisten her parched lips 
with any thing but water.* Weak, faint, and 
exhausted, the shrine was at length reached, and, 
with a cry that was half-pain, half-joy, she threw 
herself on her knees, and at once began her sup- 
plication to the powerful saint. All night she 
kept her vigil by the tomb, and with prayers 
and tears besought a blessing for her son — a 
blessing that should crown him with honor and 
fame, and give him a long life, too. 

And who shall say that God, in his infinite 
pity, did not hear the prayer thus ignorantly 
offered by one of his creatures, and did not 
comfort that anxious mother’s heart, although 
she knew it not ! 

Sir Valence took little share in the devotions 
at the tornb of the saint, but he assisted his 
wife in presenting her votive offerings ; and 
having given handsome presents to the abbot 
and prior of the monastery, where they had 
been lodged during their stay, he gladly turned 
his face homeward. 

Lady de Valery could now talk of the coming 
crusade, and listen to all the news which her 

*See Frontispiece. 


42 


Elfreda. 




husband could collect concerning the progress 
made in the gathering of men and treasure to 
be transported to Palestine, for was not her son 
under the special guardianship of the most 
powerful saint in heaven’s hierarchy ? 

But it seemed that the new crusade was like- 
ly to be forgotten for a time in the nearer in- 
terest of their own more immediate concerns, 
for nothing was talked of now but the alarming 
illness of their heart-broken king, who had been 
robbed of most of his continental possessions 
by his rebellious sons. The crowning agony 
of his life had just fallen upon him in the 
knowledge that his favorite, John, had joined 
his brothers and taken up arms against him, 
and men whispering among themselves that the 
old king would never survive this last blow, 
and what would happen if he died while Prince 
Richard was abroad. 

The state of England was sufficiently deplor- 
able now, despite all King Henry had done in 
reforming the civil administration of the realm, 
and introducing the first principles of trial by 
jury ; but what it would become during an in- 
terregnum should one occur, when each power- 
ful baron would struggle to pl^ce himself fore- 
most, men trembled to think. 

Little wonder was it, then, th^t thp shrine of 


The Pilgrimage, 43 

k Becket was thronged with devotees, for the 
poor recognized in him the first man of their 
own nation who had been raised to any high 
position in the State since the Norman con- 
quest, and above all, the martyr defender of that 
power that could alone stem the torrent of law- 
less violence in their haughty rulers. Even 
Lady de Valery felt a secret satisfaction that 
she could claim kinship with this man of the 
people when she saw the crowd of devotees at 
his shrine, and O, surely her darling would be 
safe under such a mighty protector ! 

So with a lightened heart and cheerful coun- 
tenance she rode through the grassy glades of 
the forest, entering without fear the thick copses 
that might perchance prove the lurking place of 
some band of robbers, for her boy was protected 
by more than mortal care from all dangers, and 
for herself she feared nothing. In the depth 
of her gratitude to St. Thomas she now re- 
solved that, in addition to the Fridays of each 
week, which the pope had commanded should 
be kept as Lent during the next five years, she 
and her bower maidens would observe Wednes- 
day also as a strict fast in memory of the mar- 
tyr of Canterbury ; and in forming these plans, 
and thinking of her son, the journey lost much 
of its wearisomeness, and they were once more 


44 


Elfreda. 


drawing near their home when a sudden storm 
came on, which compelled them to look around 
for shelter. Seeing a swine-herd near, Sir 
Valence directed one of his servants to fetch 
the man to him, for the rain was descending in 
torrents, and the lightning had already set their 
horses rearing and plunging, so that for his wife, 
at least, some shelter must speedily be found. 
Lady de Valery was almost as frightened as her 
palfrey when a heavy clap of thunder rolled 
along the sky, and seemed to break over their 
very heads, so that she scarcely noticed the 
uncouth figure that was half led half dragged 
before Sir Valence. He was dressed in a close, 
sleeveless jacket of sheepskin, from which the 
wool had only been partially removed, and which, 
fastened loosely round his throat, descended to 
his knees, and thus saved all necessity for any 
other garments. Around his neck was a brass 
ring, on which was engraven his name and the 
name of his master, which, if the Lady de Vale- 
ry could have seen, she would have known was 
that of her brother. But no one noticed any 
thing beyond the man’s sullen, dogged look, 
which, with his matted, unkempt hair and beard, 
and weather-stained skin, made him look almost 
ferocious. 

In answer to Sir Valence’s question, the man 


The Pilgrimage. 


45 


silently pointed toward an opening in the 
woods they had not before noticed ; whereat 
the knight, placing his wife on his own horse, 
and carefully leading the animal forward, bade 
his servants follow him with the baggage as 
quickly as they could. 

Sir Valance expected to find the dwelling of 
a franklin near at hand, and did not notice, in 
his anxiety for his wife’s safety, that they were 
drawing near a larger dwelling than was usually 
occupied by those freemen — for they alone were 
free from yielding feudal service for their hold- 
ings at this time — and he had wound his horn 
loudly for the gate in the stockade to be opened 
and the draw-bridge to be let down over the deep 
fosse that encircled it before he noticed that it 
was the farm-house hall of his wife’s brother, 
Ericson. It was too late now, however, to seek 
another shelter ; so his own castle being still a 
mile or two farther on, as soon as his summons 
had been answered, he took his wife in his arms 
and carried her into the hall, where the family 
were assembled. 

Hasty as was their entrance, however, the 
knight noticed at once that he had interrupted 
some one reading from a clumsy-looking book 
that lay on the upper table, while to the lady’s 
ears had come the words of the reader, sweet 


46 


Elfreda. 


and clear, yet sounding above the din of the 
elements without : Let not your heart be 
troubled.” The reader had stopped there ; and 
Lady de Valery recognized in the fair-haired 
girl who had been performing this service her 
sister’s orphan child, Elfreda. 


William Longbeard. 


47 


CHAPTER IV. 


WILLIAM LONGBEARD. 


\DY DE VALERY had not thought it 



J — ^ needful to send Elfreda to the convent 
with her own children, and the bower maidens 
left behind had their own affairs to think of, so 
that the little girl was left to wander about at 
will. Sometimes she penetrated to the lower 
regions of the castle, where the under servants, 
slaves, and dogs lived upon an almost equal 
footing ; and sometimes she amused the grave 
old seneschal, as he kept watch and ward, with 
stories of travel and strange adventure, which 
she had heard from pilgrims and knights 
in her old home among the Jewish hills. To 
wander outside the precincts of the castle had 
been a forbidden pleasure while Lady de Valery 
was at home, but she had little difficulty in per- 
suading the guard to lower the draw-bridge now, 
that she might go forth in search of willow 
wands and wild flowers, and she was out in 
search of such floral treasures when the storm 
came on and drove her to seek shelter at the 
farm-house, as it did Lady de Valery. 


48 


Elfreda. 


This was explained by Ericson, who stood 
at the end of the long, low-roofed hall, wear- 
ing his beard as long as his father had worn his, 
and bearing himself as proudly as any Norman 
baron. 

“ Thou art welcome to the shelter of this 
Saxon roof. Lady de Valery,'’ he concluded as 
her attendants began bustling in with the bag- 
gage. Her bower maidens drew aside their 
robes in disgust as they were invited to sit 
down on an oaken settle near the massive table 
that was still strewn with the remnants of a 
feast, while the retainers and servants scowled 
at each other and muttered curses under their 
breath. 

As this motley crowd came hurriedly into the 
great hall, Ericson descended from his seat on 
the dais and came forward a few steps to meet 
his sister ; not that he intended to acknowledge 
the relationship between them. Norman or 
Saxon is welcome to the shelter of my roof, and 
to all it will afford,” he said, as he paused to es- 
cort the knight and lady to seats befitting their 
rank. 

‘‘ We thank thee, courteous franklin,” said 
the knight, as he took his wife’s hand to lead 
her forward. 

The bower maidens, watching their mistress’s 


49 


William Longbeard. 

face, did not wonder that she looked pale and agi- 
tated at being thus summarily introduced to a 
Saxon kennel, as they chose to consider it ; and 
they were still more shocked when they saw Eric- 
son lead her to a seat next his own at the upper 
end of the hall. It was the seat she had always 
occupied in the old days, when her father sat 
where her brother now did ; and if the lady had 
not been so angry, and so fearful lest her secret 
should now be discovered by her domestics, 
these thoughts might have softened her heart 
toward Elfreda. But now all her care was to 
guard her secret ; and so, while the confused 
hum of the servants talking among themselves 
rendered it safe for her to speak, she inter- 
rupted the formal conversation of her husband 
and brother by saying, “ This Elfreda hath kins- 
men among her father’s people in the city of 
London, I trow.” 

She hath,” answered Ericson, shortly. 

Then if they will receive her for awhile — 
until — until my children be grown up, and she 
hath learned discretion, I will be at all charges 
for food and raiment.” The lady glanced at her 
husband as she said this, expecting to see some 
sign of approval in his face ; but Sir Valence 
looked as though he had not heard a word. 

Thou wilt approve of this — that Elfreda 


50 


Elfreda. 


shall go to London at our charges,” she said, a 
little anxiously. 

Elfreda is thy kinswoman, Alftruda,” said 
the knight in a low tone. If thou wiliest she 
shall go to London, send her at thy charge ; it 
is thy affair, not one concerning me or my es- 
quires and having rid himself of all concern 
in the matter he turned to look at the faded 
tapestry hung around the walls just where they 
sat, while his wife discussed the business con- 
cerning Elfreda’s immediate removal to London 
with her brother. This was not a difficult mat- 
ter to settle, for her father’s relatives, though 
poor, would be quite willing to receive the little 
girl, he said, without gift or fee ; but this the 
lady would not hear of. She should go richly 
dowered, only she must go at once, and no men- 
tion of her name was to be made again. She 
had left the hall before any of the servants had 
entered, and so there would be little difficulty 
about this ; and the lady congratulated herself 
once more upon her escape from what seemed 
to her, imminent danger of disgrace. 

As soon as the storm had abated. Sir Valence 
bade his servants bring the horses from the out- 
house where they had been sheltered, and, with 
many thanks to the hospitable franklin for his 
courtesy, the whole cavalcade set forward to- 


William Longbeard, 5 1 

ward the castle, whose gloomy keep or donjon 
could be seen plainly enough now that the sun 
once more shone out on mere and meadow. 
Sir Valence rode silently by his wife's side for 
a short distance, and then he said, Hast thou 
acted wisely in sending this orphan girl from 
thee, Alftruda } ” 

How could I do otherwise, unless — ” 

Thy lineage should become known, thou 
wouldst say,^’ interrupted Sir Valence, calmly ; 
‘‘and that thou fearest — ” 

“For my children’s sake,” interrupted the 
lady in turn. “For myself I care not ; but only 
think. Valence, of our Guy going forth to the 
holy war : would not thy proud Norman knights 
refuse to fight by his side if they knew his 
mother was a Saxon '> ” and the lady shivered 
at the thought of such contumely being put 
upon her darling. 

“ But for this child herself — hast thou no 
thought for her V asked Sir Valence. 

“ She will be well cared for in London, and 
the dower she will take with her may help her 
people to pay some of the unjust taxes that are 
still levied upon the poor of my race, that the 
rich Normans may not be so heavily assessed.” 

The lady would identify herself with the down- 
trodden race when it suited her, carefully as she 
4 


52 


Elfreda. 


ignored them at other times. The knight smiled 
at what seemed his wife’s inconsistency. 

But hast thou thought that the child’s sud- 
den disappearance will excite wonder and sur- 
prise in our household ? ” he ijiquired. 

The lady was disconcerted by the question. 
She certainly had not once thought of this ; but 
her brain, ever fertile in expedients, was not long 
at a loss in providing one for this occasion. 

Valence, for our children’s sake, we must 
be careful to guard this secret,” she said ; “ we 
were not here when Elfreda went forth, but we 
can send in search of her as though she were 
lost, and our servants will think she hath been 
carried off, as many maidens have been.” 

Thou wilt ever follow thine own willful way, 
Alftruda,” said her husband with something oi 
a sigh ; and as they drew near the castle gates 
he added, Thou must see to this .search thy- 
self. As I told thee when I read thy letter, I 
will never meddle in matters concerning thy 
kinsfolk, only be careful that thou bring not 
trouble — aye, the very curse of thy house — on 
thyself and the children through thy crooked 
dealings with this orphan of Jerusalem.” 

Sir Valence was not altogether free from the 
superstitious awe and reverence with which 
men viewed every thing connected with the 


William Longbeard. 


53 


Holy Land ; and this, no less than his knightly 
v’^ows, made him extremely unwilling to do aught 
against the girl who had been left to their pro- 
tection. Lady de Valery shared her husband’s 
feelings to some extent, or she would not have 
consented to receive Elfreda into her household 
at all ; but her selfish love for her own children 
overcame even this superstitious feeling, and she 
resolved to send her to London at all hazards. 
Once away from the castle there would be no 
fear of any indiscreet speeches betraying her 
connection with the degraded subject race ; so 
Lady de Valery rode over the draw-bridge to her 
castle-home feeling that the brooding shadow had 
once more passed from her life, and that Guy 
being secure in the protection of the mighty 
St. Thomas a Becket, she could once more be 
gay and happy, and prepare for the next tourna- 
ment to be, held at Lincoln, or the grander one 
her husband would give on Guy’s return from 
the Holy Land. 

When Lady de Valery was informed that El- 
freda had left the castle and not returned, she 
sent out several retainers in search of her ; but 
all the news they could glean of strangers being 
in the neighborhood was, the report that a party 
of Robin Hood’s men, from Sherwood forest, had 
been seen lurking in the wood close by, and so 


54 


Elfreda. 


it was settled that Robin Hood had carried off 
the girl to some of his haunts — perhaps to at- 
tend his wife Marian, whom he was said to keep 
as a great lady in the heart of the dense forest ; 
and Gilbert amused himself and annoyed his 
sister by talking of what he would do, when he 
was a sworn knight, to rescue the little girl 
from her captors. 

Beyond this boyish talk, and an occasional 
reference to her strange disappearance among 
the servants and retainers, Elfreda was soon all 
but forgotten by the dwellers in the lordly castle, 
for affairs of more interest than the disappear- 
ance of a friendless girl soon occupied the at- 
tention of all England. 

The king s unnatural sons had succeeded in 
wresting several of their father’s continental 
possessions from him, and now, in his old age, 
it preyed upon his mind so that he even cursed 
them for their wicked conduct, but he felt it so 
keenly that his health rapidly gave way, and 
before the close of this year, 1189, news came 
that King Henry had died of fever at Chinon, 
and that Richard, his eldest surviving son, was 
on his way to London, to be crowned before set- 
ting out for the Holy Land. 

The little world of Bourne, with its deep 
shady woods, and slow creeping streams winding 


ss 


William Longbeard. 

through the sedgy fens, scarce felt the ripple of 
such changes as even the death of one king and 
the accession of another now made. There had 
been a time when, among the Saxon inhabitants, 
such news would awaken a faint hope that this 
change would give them the longed-for oppor- 
tunity of throwing off the yoke of the oppressor, 
and at the sound of the curfew bell, when all 
lights and fires were extinguished, men would 
mutter dark hints of what they would do in the 
coming time when there should be no curfew 
to curtail their social gatherings or disperse 
their stealthy meetings ; but that time had never 
come, and only a few, like Ericson, ever believed 
it would dawn for Saxon England again. 

In the busy world of London, however, the 
death of King Henry might mean the death 
of commerce and handicraft, the imposing 
of grievous taxes, and the repeal of charters 
granted to them by the late king, which freed 
every man born in the city from the domination 
of any of the powerful barons. 

These charters had been granted to other 
towns besides London, and were almost the first 
amelioration of the condition of the Saxon in- 
habitants. By these a father could give his 
daughter in marriage to whom he pleased, with- 
out obtaining the consent of the lord suzerain, 


56 


Elfreda. 


or paying him any fee on the occasion. He 
could also leave his property to his children, 
which he could not do before, because all he 
had — being a slave — belonged to his lord. The 
charter also conferred on the people the right 
of having some share in the choice of magis- 
trates to govern them, as well as the exemption 
from certain tolls and taxes. 

That Prince Richard might curtail some of 
these privileges granted by his father was only 
too probable, and so, when the news came of 
King Henry’s death, there was a great gather- 
ing of the Saxon citizens, with their aldmen, or 
aldermen, in their council chamber, and fore- 
most among these was one who was known 
throughout the city for his kindness and even- 
handed justice. 

Like Ericson of Bourne, he still wore a long 
beard, and the long cloak of his Saxon ances- 
tors, and the nickname of William Longbeard, 
given him in derision by some haughty Norman, 
was one of the most honored in London. 

Every one listened to the words Longbeard 
spoke, and he counseled that all men should 
quietly pursue their business until the coming 
of Richard, for he, like William the Conqueror, 
would be crowned in the great abbey erected 
by the last Saxon king, St. Edward. 


William Lojigbeard. 57 

So the meeting had broken up, and men went 
back to their homes to talk of the wisdom of 
William Longbeard, and how little he feared 
any change in their condition. 

But William himself was not so confident as 
his friends supposed. As he sat on the oaken 
settle near the wide, open fire-place, and looked 
at his wife with the baby on her knee, and the 
gentle, fair-haired girl by her side, he sighed 
deeply as he said, I almost wish myself in the 
quiet place thou art so often talking of, Elfreda 
—this Bourne — with its unchartered liberty and 
slavery.” 

The girl lifted her head. Will the city lose 
its charters, thinkest thou,” she asked, for she 
had learned how much the citizens owed to 
these. 

Longbeard glanced at his wife, and saw how 
white her face had grown at the mere asking of 
this question, and so he said hastily, Nay, nay, 
child, but thou knowest that a new king must 
have new counselors and new ways, and Prince 
Richard hath sworn to go to the Holy Land, 
and will want goodly treasure from our coffers, 
I trow, and so we must bethink ourselves that 
we provide this without tumult or law breaking 
on the part of our citizens.” 

Thy talking of moneys hath brought to 


58 


Elfreda. 


my mind that an old Jew came to see thee 
whilst thou wert at the busting to-day/’ said 
his wife. 

‘'A Jew! Thou must be mistaken. I am 
no luxurious Norman, spending more of my 
patrimony in one year than it will yield in two. 
I have no dealings with Jews,” he added scorn- 
fully. 

“ Perhaps he would fain have dealings with 
thee,” suggested his wife, laughing ; “ for that 
I was not mistaken thou mayest be sure, for 
no one but a Jew would wear the square yel- 
low hat and serge gabardine commanded by 
law to be worn by them to distinguish them 
from all others.” 

‘‘ That is true/’ replied her husband, “ but 
what said the man ^ ” 

That he would fain have speech of thee, for 
he had heard of thy skill in interpreting Nor- 
man and Saxon laws, and thy justice in deal- 
ing with all questions brought before thee.” 

The knave, to talk of justice — a Jew to talk 
of justice 1” exclaimed Longbeard, and the very 
thought of it seemed so far-fetched and ridicu- 
lous that all else was forgotten in the laughter 
which rang through the room. 

When this had subsided, however, Elfreda 
looked up from her embroidery and said, Dost 


Will lain Loiigbeard, 59 

thou think the Jews were always the accursed 
usurers they now are ? 

Nay, I trouble not myself with such questions 
as that, Elfreda ; thou shouldst have asked that 
of some learned monk dwelling near their an- 
cient city, if it ever was theirs.’' 

“ Dost thou doubt even this, then V asked the 
girl in wonder. 

Nay, I tell thee I have not thought of this 
matter, but I know that a Jew’s word can never 
be taken ; and it is enough for me that the 
Church hath pronounced them accursed for 
lending money upon usury ; though why she 
should not curse them who borrow it, is what 
I fail to understand.” 


6o 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE CORONATION OF KING RICHARD. 

B EP'ORE William Longbeard left home the 
next morning he was summoned to see a 
visitor, who had chosen to come at this early 
hour that he might speak to him undisturbed. 
Descending to the little, roughly furnished hall, 
he saw a man bent with age, but who bowed 
still lower as he saw the Saxon approaching. 
He did not venture to draw near for fear of giv- 
ing offense, and it was with fear and hesitation, 
and a visible tremor in his voice, that he said, ‘‘ I 
crave thy pardon, noble Saxon, for thus daring 
to approach thee ; and then, for the first time, 
Longbeard noticed in the dim light of the entry 
that his visitor wore the russet gabardine and 
high, square, yellow cap of a Jew. 

He drew back instantly, as if fearing to come 
in contact with one of such a degraded race; 
while the old man continued to bow and apolo- 
gize in the most abject humility. 

The God of Israel will requite thee for 
the favor thou canst bestow upon the poor old 
Jew — for he is poor — old Nathan is very poor,” 


The Coronation of King Richard. 6r 

said the old man as he shook his head and 
sighed. 

The Saxon’s lips curled in scornful disdain as 
he looked down at the bowed figure before him. 
‘‘ What wouldst thou have of me, Nathan he 
asked sharply. 

That which will cost thee nothing, but will 
be of great service to my people,” replied the old 
man, again bowing. 

‘^Something to save a few zechins, I dare 
swear by the holy rood.” 

‘‘ We are poor, very poor,” hastily interposed 
the Jew, '' but we cannot make these Normans 
knights believe it ; and now that King Henry is 
dead, and Prince Richard will come here to be 
crowned, before setting out for the land of my 
fathers — ” 

Thy fathers ! ” scornfully interrupted the 
Saxon. Keep thy talk, Nathan, to the matter 
of zechins, and defame not this land of Pales- 
tine by claiming it for thy fathers.” 

The Jew bowed obsequiously, and turned 
in silence to the reproof. 

I will set forth before thee mine errand this 
morning. My people would fain pleasure the 
new king that we may abide in peace in this 
city, and — ” 

‘‘ And rob honest citizens by thy extortions. 


62 


Elfreda. 


I would that the king would take every Jew 
with him on this mad crusade. But go on, 
Nathan, tell me thine errand,’' said Long- 
beard. 

My people would fain pleasure the king by 
a present — we are poor, very poor, and we can- 
not give much, but each will of our poverty give 
a little, and it hath been deemed wise that this 
should be taken by two of our elders and laid 
at the king’s feet so soon as he hath received 
the crown. What saith William the Saxon, for 
it is well-known that he is skilled in Norman 
laws and Norman ways.” 

Nay, of Norman laws I may know some- 
thing, since I have studied them for the advan- 
tage of my people ; but of Norman ways William 
the Saxon knoweth little beyond the hatred he 
beareth to all the fashions that are un-English, 
and come from beyond the seas. But once 
more to thine errand. Thou art wise to give a 
present to Prince Richard, soon to be King 
Richard ; but see thou do this business warily, 
not pushing thyself before better men, either 
Norman or Saxon, even though their gifts be 
less. And let not any of thy people presume to 
come near the abbey Church of Thorney, other- 
wise the Westminster, on that day to see the gal- 
lant show, lest mischief come of it and having 


TJie Coronation of King Richard. 63 

given his advice, Longbeard once more ascended 
the stairs, leaving his visitor still bowing and 
offering thanks and blessings. 

As he left the house, however, he looked less 
pleased at the advice just given him. God of 
Abraham, our father, how long are thy people 
to be treated as dogs by these uncircumcised 
Gentiles ! How long shall we mourn for the 
land these Nazarenes and paynim infidels are 
rending themselves to obtain ! How long shall 
these stranger feet tread the courts of our tem- 
ple while they say, ' Set not thy foot within our 
churches ! ’ Even this dog of dogs, William the 
Saxon, dareth to say to Nathan the Jew, ‘ Go 
not within the walls of our temple lest mischiet 
befall thee !’ Let mischief befall, for wherefore 
should a Jew give gifts and see naught for the 
goodly zechins he hath yielded up } And, 
above all, why should we not note the jewels 
worn by those who owe us great treasure, or 
will come to borrow of us ere long } I will 
go to this church if Richard hath aught from 
the coffers of old Nathan, and my daughter 
Sarah shall even go with me.” Saying which, 
the old man drew his gabardine closely round 
him, for the narrow streets were now becom- 
ing thronged, and if, through his inadvertence, 
the russet cloak should touch a Christian gar- 


64 


Elfreda. 


ment, insult, perhaps blows, would follow most 
surely. 

Every-where men were busy now in making . 
preparations for Prince Richard’s reception and 
coronation, and the old Jew hastened to the 
dirty quarter of the town where his people 
lived, for they, too, would be busy at this time, 
and the old man chuckled as he thought of the 
profit that would fall to his share out of the 
gay doings that were about to take place. 
Jeweled swords and costly armor, rich silken 
garments and embroidered hangings, besides 
gold and silver lamps, jewels, and money, would 
be borrowed at this time to grace tournaments 
and banquets in honor of the coronation ; and 
Nathan went home and opened his coffers in 
readiness, and counted out the zechins that 
were to be his share of the gift to King 
Richard. 

London was soon full to overflowing, for not 
only Richard’s immediate train of knights and 
nobles followed him from the continent, but a 
large number who had gone thither to gather 
arms and men for the crusade followed their 
ardent young leader back to his capital to urge 
him, by their presence, to make every effort to 
gather as much treasure as possible for the 
equipment of the fleet that was to carry them 


The Coronation of King Richard. 65 

to Palestine. The Emperor of Germany, Fred- 
erick Barbarossa, had already set out with a 
land force, and Richard, with his Norman no- 
bles, were all impatience to join him with a 
fleet, but to gather all the treasure he needed 
some months must necessarily elapse. 

Meanwhile the preparations for his corona- 
tion were pushed on with all haste ; and when 
at length the day arrived, the great abbey church 
— of which Norman and Saxon alike were proud 
— was found to be too small to accommodate 
the numerous train of nobles ; so that many of 
their esquires were left outside to join in the 
procession afterward. 

These formed an additional guard round the 
church, and effectually kept all intruders from 
approaching too near the sacred edifice. A few 
Jews had ventured to come out, but they kept 
in the rear of the crowd of citizens, who were, 
for the most part, very orderly. 

The proceedings inside the church had almost 
terminated, and the first shout of Long live 
King Richard ! ” was faintly heard, when all at 
once these joyous sounds were drowned by the 
cry of, The Jews ! the Jews ! hunt them out ! ” 
and forth from the portal of the church came 
two or three white-headed old men, their russet 
gowns torn almost to rags, and their hoary locks 


66 


Elfreda. 


disheveled. With a frightened, bewildered gaze, 
they stood irresolute for one moment, and the 
crowd of esquires, thinking they meant to pol- 
lute the church again by their presence, closed 
round them, and took up the cry of those who 
had driven them out, and shouted, Jews ! Jews ! 
hunt them ! hunt them ! ” which the crowd be- 
yond quickly translated into Kill them ! kill 
them ! ” for the men-at-arms, as well as the 
train of esquires, had used their swords upon 
their defenseless victims, and those who had 
committed the unpardonable offense of enter- 
ing the church soon fell covered with wounds. 
Some of their own people, in the outskirts of 
the crowd, vainly attempted to come to their 
rescue ; but this well-intentioned movement 
had only the effect of bringing down the anger 
of the populace, who, forgetting the original 
cause of offense, now turned upon them with 
the cry, “ Long live King Richard, and death to 
every Jew!” 

In vain the unfortunate people tried to es- 
cape. They were hunted through the streets, 
and followed to their homes, and there plun- 
dered and murdered. All the pent-up violence 
and lawlessness which the Church alone re- 
strained and kept in check found its vent that 
day, for the right of sanctuary, which flying to 


The Coronation of King Richard, 67 

a sacred edifice gave every other man, even a 
murderer, was withheld from Jews ; and so they 
were left to the mercy of a turbulent, angry 
crowd, who hated them while they borrowed 
from them, and called them thieves and extor- 
tioners while they decked themselves in their 
jewels and silks. Many a debtor rid himself of 
a troublesome creditor that day in the name of 
King Richard, and many a jeweled sword that 
had lain in Jewish coffers was dyed with Jewish 
blood before night came on, and the tolling cur- 
few put an end to the bloody riot. 

In the quiet street of the city where Elfreda 
lived with her kinsman, William the Saxon, lit- 
tle of the din of the riot made itself heard ; only 
a few frightened people hurried along the nar- 
row roadway sometimes, and from the looks and 
words of these Elfreda gathered that something 
unusual had taken place. A few of the houses 
in this street could boast of the luxury of having 
a few panes of glass in the latticed windows, 
and at one of these sat Elfreda, watching every 
passenger, and hoping Longbeard would soon 
come home to allay his wife’s fears on his ac- 
count. 

As she thus sat, a gayly dressed esquire, 
mounted on an elegantly caparisoned horse, 
and bearing a large bundle before him, sudden- 
5 


68 


Elfreda. 


ly appeared, and looked up with a bewildered 
gaze at the windows of the houses as he passed. 
As he came opposite Elfreda and looked at her, 
he reined in his horse and beckoned to her to 
come down to him, and in the same moment 
she recognized him as her Cousin Guy. With- 
out a moment’s hesitation she went down and 
unfastened the wooden lock of the door, and 
the next moment Guy carried his heavy bun- 
dle into the hall and laid it on the floor at her 
feet. 

Thou hast a gentle face,” he said as he 
stooped down and began to unfasten the cloak 
that was wrapped around his burden, “ and if 
thy father’s heart may be judged by thy face, 
he will give shelter to this poor wretch even 
though he be a Jew, as he doubtless is. I 
have done what I could to save him ; ” and 
with a sigh, the young man uncovered the pale, 
blood-stained face of the old Jew who had come 
there a few days before to ask counsel of Will- 
iam Longbeard. Elfreda recognized him in a 
moment. 

“ Thy prisoner will, doubtless, be succored 
by William the Saxon, my kinsman,” she said 
a little proudly, for she thought her Norman 
cousin would not acknowledge her here. But 
Guy had been too much occupied with the old 


The Coronation of King Richard, 6g 

man to notice Elfreda more than to see she was 
a maiden with a kindly face ; and even now, as 
she spoke he stepped back a pace or two, and 
passed his hand before his eyes, and looked 
again before he said, “ Art thou Elfreda, from 
my father’s castle at Bourne ? ” and as he saw 
the smile part Elfreda’s lips at the look of won- 
der on his own face, he bowed with courtly 
grace before her. The saints have been fa- 
vorable to me to-day,” he said ; “ I had not 
thought to see a Bourne face in this riotous 
city of London. How sayest thou — this Will- 
iam the Saxon is thy kinsman ? is he also 
called Longbeard by his fellow-aldermen and 
citizens 

Yes, he holdeth still to the fashion of our 
fathers in the cut of his beard,” answered El- 
freda, still smiling at her cousin’s evident be- 
wilderment. 

“ And thou sayest he is thy kinsman ; and I 
have heard that thou art of kin to my mother, 
the Lady de Valery. Solve this riddle for me, 
gracious lady.” 

Nay, nay, let this riddle be even as it is. 
This poor Jew claimeth our care now,” she 
added. 

The young esquire looked down with mingled 
pity and disdain. “ I wish he were not a Jew, 


70 


Elfreda. 


or not a man at all, that I could leave him to 
perish as a dog. Whither shall I bear him.^^” 
he asked once more, lifting his unwelcome 
burden. 

Elfreda led the way to a small unused room 
in the rear of the house, and then went to fetch 
wine and restoratives. She had not helped her 
mother bind up her fathers wounds in vain, 
and her knowledge of what should be applied 
was most useful just now, for Guy could do 
little beyond holding the bandages and sup- 
porting the patient while Elfreda poured a little 
wine down his throat. After a time he began 
to revive, and turned himself on the impromptu 
couch Guy had made for him of some loose 
straw and old sacks. 

‘‘ Where am I ? asked the old man, feebly 
groaning forth the words. 

Fear not, thou art with friends,” answered 
Elfreda ; and then for the first time she won- 
dered how it was her cousin came to have a 
wounded Jew in his care, for in his surprise at 
seeing her he had forgotten all explanations. 

He told her in a few whispered words of the 
horrible riot that was still going on, and how he 
had barely escaped detection more than once 
while trying to save this man. 

Before the recital was at an end Longbeard 


The Coronation of King Richard, 7 1 

himself came home, and Elfreda fetched him at 
once to see the old Jew. He was looking anx- 
ious and perturbed, for this riot might bring 
upon them consequences little thought of at 
first. King Richard might make this the plau- 
sible pretext for withdrawing the charter, or im- 
posing fresh taxes to pay the expenses of the 
new crusade and the sight of the old Jew lying 
there wounded and helpless under his roof did 
not tend to lessen his perplexity. He glanced 
at Guy’s dainty apparel with something of dis- 
dain, but he listened patiently to Elfreda’s story 
of old Nathan’s rescue, and when it was con- 
cluded he stepped up to Guy and held out his 
hand. 

“ It is our Saxon fashion of fealty and friend- 
ship ; and thou art the first Norman whose hand 
hath been grasped by William the Saxon,” he 
said as he clasped the white, delicate hand of 
the young esquire. The grasp was none the 
less warmly returned, however, and Guy said 
eagerly : — 

‘‘ I trust I may know thee better by and 
by, for Elfreda hath a riddle to solve for me, 
and — ” 

‘'This is no time for solving riddles, thou 
wouldst say,” whispered Longbeard, “ and I am 
of the like opinion ; wherefore hasten back lest 


72 


Elfreda. 


thou shouldst be missed from the banquet. I 
will take care of old Nathan, Jew though he be, 
since thou hast saved him. The saints pre- 
serve us ! but what will not happen when a 
Norman saves a Jew and grasps the hand of a 
Saxon ! 

Guy laughed as he slowly made his way back 
to the door, and after he had mounted his horse 
he called to Elfreda to say he should visit them 
soon to hear the solution of the riddle. 

The friends of old Nathan were secretly in- 
formed that he was in safety ; but they were 
afraid to venture beyond their own quarters in 
search of him, and William Longbeard was 
equally afraid to make it known where he was 
hiding. The king had suddenly announced 
that he had taken the Jews under his pro- 
tection, and what this might portend no one 
could tell ; only it was known he had little 
friendly feeling toward the citizens, and had 
been heard to say that he would sell London if 
he could find a cheapman who would buy it, 
even as he had already sold the earldom of 
Northumberland to the bishop of Durham for 
ten thousand pounds. 

All sorts of such sales were taking place just 
now. Crown lands, houses, and offices of all 
kinds, were publicly sold to increase the money 


The Coronation of King Richard. 73 

in the treasury, all of which, would be taken to 
defray the expenses of the crusade ; while the 
unusual sight of a monk preaching might be 
daily witnessed now, crowds gathering to hear 
the exhortation, or rather papal command sent 
forth, that all men should join the holy war, and 
go forth to rescue the sacred city from the 
hands of the Saracens. 

In the midst of all this public excitement, 
however, Guy. found time to come again and 
again to the quiet home of William Longbeard, 
and by dint of questioning and talking he grad- 
ually drew from Elfreda all she knew of the 
family history, and the curse that was attached 
to the house of Ericson. He had been shocked, 
almost stunned, at first, on hearing that his 
mother was one of the despised Saxon race ; 
but he grew alarmed when he heard of the 
curse that ever followed each member of this 
doomed family. 

'^And thou, Elfreda, and my gentle mother, 
are ye both under this curse } ” asked Guy anx- 
iously. He forgot his own share in it in his 
anxiety for them. 

Elfreda bowed her head, and covered her face 
wdth her hands. Nay, nay, do not talk of it, 
Guy ; it makes me shiver and tremble as I think 
how — how — 


74 


Elfreda. 


Nay, but tell me what thou wouldst say, 
Elfreda, for I want to know all about this curse, 
and it may be I can take it away, for thou 
knowest I am going on this crusade.” 

But the girl only shook her head. It is of 
no use, Guy ; my father went crusading, too, 
and my grandfather died near the holy tomb, 
and yet — yet — O, Guy, I have brought back the 
curse to England they say ! ” and Elfreda burst 
into such a violent flood of tears that Guy grew 
quite alarmed. 

Nay, nay, weep not Elfreda ; thou hast not 
brought this curse back. Listen to me ; I am 
strong and young, and can do valiant fighting 
against this Saladin, and holy Church grants 
special favors to those who are brave in battle. 
Now look up, Elfreda, and listen, and take 
courage. I am going to fight for thee — to take 
this curse away — ^for when honors and riches 
are offered I will put them from me, and say, 
Nay, I want not these, but that holy mother 
Church should remove the curse now resting 
upon the Ericsons.” 

Elfreda lifted her tearful face. But O, Guy, 
if thou shouldst fall in the battle ! ” she whis- 
pered. 

'' Nay, but thou shalt pray for me to our En- 
glish saint, Thomas a Becket, and I will be one 


The Coronation of King Richard, 75 

of the conquerors, and take the curse away, 
although others have failed.” 

And so Elfreda took courage from her brave 
young cousin’s words, and began to hope that 
Guy de Valery would take the curse of the 
Ericsons away, although all others had failed in 
the endeavor to accomplish this result. 


76 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER VI. 

AT CROWLAND ABBEY. 

TN spite of all King Richard’s extraordinary 
exertions to augment his resources for the 
crusade, it was not until April of the follow- 
ing year, 1190, that his fleet of a hundred ves- 
sels sailed from Dartmouth. Richard himself 
journeyed through . France with a train of 
knights, and did not reach Messina until Sep- 
tember, where he found his fleet awaiting him, 
and also received news that his mother would 
shortly join him with his promised bride, Ber- 
engaria, sister of the king of Navarre. His 
marriage shortly afterward with Berengaria, at 
Cyprus, gave great offense to his ally, Philip 
of France, and his waging war against Cyprus 
at the same time incensed Leopold, Duke of 
Austria. Philip was offended because Richard 
had been betrothed to his sister Adelais, and 
Leopold because he had slain Isaac, king of 
Cyprus, his kinsman, and taken his daughter 
prisoner. But Richard could afford to laugh at 
his angry friends just now, for he was enjoying 
himself in his newly conquered possessions. 


At Crowland Abbey. 77 

quite forgetful for the time of the terrible straits 
to which they were reduced in besieging the 
city of Acre. 

For two years a Christian army had tried all 
the expedients of war, at a loss of three hun- 
dred thousand men, to regain this city from infi- 
del hands ; but Saladin would neither yield nor 
give up the holy cross which he had carried 
away from the Church of the Resurrection at 
Jerusalem. 

Richard was at length roused from his life of 
pleasant ease at Cyprus, and, once aroused, he 
was not likely to be daunted by a few obstacles. 
The fever, which had carried off many brave 
men before a blow was struck, seized King 
Richard ; but, against all warning, he mounted 
his horse day after day, and, though scarcely able 
to sustain the weight of his armor, he insisted 
on visiting the trenches, and cheering on the 
workmen who were erecting wooden galleries 
from which stones and darts might be hurled 
into the city, and where the bowmen and archers 
could do deadly execution among the garrison 
who mounted the walls. 

Guy de Valery almost wished he were an 
archer himself, that he might by his bravery 
distinguish himself in the coming assault, and 
thus win from holy Church the removal of the 


78 


Elfreda. 


curse under which the Ericsons had groaned 
for a hundred years ; but there seemed little 
chance of winning this, or knightly fame either, 
for he was mostly employed as a messenger, go- 
ing to and fro between the camp and the castle, 
where Queen Berengaria and her ladies resided. 
At length came the news that Saladin had 
proposed to treat for peace, and it was agreed 
that if they would give up Acre, and the still 
more precious cross they had stolen from Jeru- 
salem, and set at liberty fifteen hundred cap- 
tives, the allied sovereigns of Europe would 
withdraw their troops. 

But, after forty days’ delay, Saladin refused 
to accede to their terms, and then the hostages 
and captives, to the number of five thousand, 
were led out in the sight of the garrison of Acre 
and all slaughtered. It was almost the first of 
war’s horrors that Guy de Valery had ever seen, 
and his heart sickened, and he hid his face for 
very shame at the thought of the cruel deed. 
Some of those thus basely butchered he had 
learned to know during their captivity, and, 
Turks though they were, he knew they were 
men with hopes, and fears, and warm heart-love 
for the dear ones they had left at home in Egypt 
and Arabia, just as he cherished the thought of 
mother, sisters, and friends in dear old England. 


A I Croivland Abbey, 79 

He learned, too, that although they were called 
“ infidels,” and were supposed to worship only 
the false prophet Mohammed, some of them, at 
least, acknowledged God to be their ruler and 
guide, and tried to live in obedience to his 
commands. 

But not only Turks fell a sacrifice through 
this inhuman butchery, for Saladin quickly fol- 
lowed the bad example set by these Christian 
warriors, and five thousand Christians were next 
murdered in sight of their friends and leaders ; 
and then the holy war proceeded until the neigh- 
borhood of Jerusalem was reached, when famine 
and sickness compelled King Richard to beat a 
hasty retreat. Hearing at Jaffa that his old ally, 
Philip, who had returned to France, was con- 
spiring with his brother John to deprive him 
of his throne, Richard was glad to make peace 
with Saladin on his agreeing to destroy Asca- 
lon, yield up the coast of Palestine from Joppa 
to Tyre, and grant all Christians the liberty of 
going on pilgrimage to Jerusalem without tax or 
impost. Having concluded this compact, Rich- 
ard and his distinguished army turned their 
faces homeward, the monarch sore perplexed 
how he himself was to reach the far-off shores 
of England ; for Philip of France and Henry of 
Germany were both his sworn enemies, and, 


8o 


Elfreda. 


therefore, it was not safe for him to trust him- 
self in their dominions ; while Leopold of Aus- 
tria was scarcely more friendly, for Richard had 
turned him out of Acre because he refused to 
take his share with his followers in laboring at 
the fortifications. 

At length Richard decided to travel in the 
disguise of a pilgrim, hoping to reach England 
long before his fleet and army; but when at 
length these reached the shores of their native 
land, they found Prince John had made himself 
master of his brother s dominions, and nothing 
had been heard of King Richard since his ves- 
sel had left them at Marseilles. 

It was a sad home coming for many a brave 
crusader, and mourning, rather than joy, was 
spread through the land as the news traveled 
from town to town that the army had returned 
from Palestine ; but their king had mysterious- 
ly disappeared — for men had began to look for- 
ward to the coming of their king to release 
them from the exactions and tyranny of Prince 
John. 

Perhaps no one among Richard’s knights and 
esquires felt more sad, than Guy de Valery ; for 
beyond the empty glory of having defeated Sal- 
adin, and performed prodigies of personal val- 
or, Richard had accomplished but little for the 


At Crowland Abbey. 8i 

Christian cause in Palestine, and Guy had no 
opportunity afforded him of winning that fame 
that he had fondly dreamed would secure from 
the pope the removal of the curse resting upon 
his mother’s family. 

Lady de Valery, however, thought of nothing, 
cared for nothing, now that her darling had re- 
turned in safety, and she begged that there 
might be jousts and tilting matches held in 
honor of his return, since Guy himself objected 
to the long-looked-for tournament. 

‘‘Art thou so disappointed at not having 
taken knightly vows, my son } ” she asked one 
day, coming suddenly upon Guy as he leaned 
pensively over the battlements. 

The young man started at the question. 

“ I — I longed for knightly fame, my mother, 
that I might — ” and there he stopped, for he rec- 
ollected that he had promised Elfreda never to 
betray his knowledge of his mother’s relation- 
ship to the Saxon franklin Ericson. 

The lady thought she had discovered the 
cause of her son’s hesitation, and she said with 
a faint smile, “So thou wouldst win knightly 
fame to break a lance in some fair lady’s honor, 
who will perchance smile as sweetly on thy an- 
tagonist, and care little for thee and thy doughty 
deeds.” 


82 


Elfreda. 


Guy tried to smile in response to his moth- 
er’s bantering words, but the effort was a failure, 
for his thoughts went back to Elfreda, and the 
bitter curse that she was said to have brought 
back in her person ; and so he only shook his 
head as he replied, “ Nay, my lady mother, I 
have seen no maiden so fair as thou art, or 
whose colors I would choose to wear at tilting 
match or tournament. I seek not knightly 
fame for lady’s favors,” he added. 

Then wherefore art thou so sadly serious, 
my son ? Wilt thou not tell me what is troub- 
ling thee ? Gilbert is practicing with the men-at- 
arms in the tilt-yard, and it is passing strange 
that thou shouldst choose to sit thus alone 
when our lithsmen are in such high revel at thy 
safe return.” 

Gilbert and our men-at-arms can doubtless 
enjoy a mimic joust in the tilt-yard, but, my 
mother, I have been on the battle-field with 
King Richard — have seen him fight hand to 
hand in no mimic warfare, and would fain fight 
myself as our king hath fought.” 

The lady sighed. “ Our king is the boldest 
and bravest knight in Europe, and doubtless 
thou wouldst fain go in search of him, my son, 
but it were ten times more mad than this cru- 
sade to begin such a search. St. Thomas hath 


83 


At Crozvland Abbey, 

heard my prayer for thee, and brought thee 
back safely, and now I would fain see thee join 
in the sports while thou art here, for thou wilt 
presently return to Lincoln, and it may be 
many months ere thy mother s heart is glad- 
dened with a look at thy sunburned face 
again.” 

'' It may be as thou sayest, for if Sir Hugh de 
Lancy should journey to London, I shall doubt- 
less go with him,” said Guy ; and to please his 
mother he went down at once to the tilt-yard 
to take some share in the thrusting and shout- 
ing. But he soon grew tired of this play. His 
mind ran continually upon the curse Elfreda 
had talked about, and at length he resolved to 
set off to Crowland and ask the prior for fur- 
ther information about this. 

As he drew near the church sounds of feast- 
ing and merriment met his ears quite as loud, 
and far less sober, than what he had left behind ; 
and he soon found that the monks, as well as 
the farmers and their laborers, were holding the 
‘‘Feast of Fools,” and drinking scot-ale in the 
nave of the sacred building in honor of the safe 
return of the crusaders. 

The mirth and revelry grated on Guy’s spirits 
just now, and he had almost resolved to re- 
enter his boat and return home, when the prior 
6 


84 


Elfreda. 


met him and warmly welcomed him to the sa- 
cred isle. 

'‘Thou wilt join our merry men in the 
feast,” he said, leading the way toward the 
church. 

But Guy held back. “ Nay, I am in no mood 
for reveling, and if thou wert other than his 
reverence the prior of St. Waltheof ’s and Guth- 
lac’s, I should venture to say the saints would 
scarcely be pleased at their shrines being thus * 
turned into tables for revelers.” 

The prior shrugged his shoulders. “ The 
Church in her wisdom and compassion for the 
weakness of men hath accommodated herself 
to their love of pleasure and the good things of 
this life. But wherefore art thou so serious, 
Guy de Valery Surely no ill hath happened 
to thy mother.^” sarid the monk. 

“ As yet my lady mother is well, but thou 
knowest the curse of the Ericsons may at any 
moment fall upon her, and — ” 

“They have told thee this secret, then, though 
I charged Sir Valence to keep it safely locked 
in his own bosom. Foolish, foolish !” muttered 
the monk. 

“ No matter how I became possessed of the 
secret, it is enough that I know it, and that I 
have sworn to redeem my mother and all the 


At Crowland Abbey. 85 

Ericsons from the power of this curse,” hastily 
added Guy. 

The prior looked into his earnest face half 
pityingly, half scornfully. 

‘‘ Thou art not the first who hath sworn such 
an oath, and died with it unfulfilled. This curse 
spreads and widens in its blighting influence as 
it becomes known. I warned thy father when 
he wrung the secret from me never to let his 
children hear aught concerning it.” 

But I have heard it,” said Guy, and I have 
come to thee to hear all thou canst tell me con- 
cerning it — all the records thy minster and 
monastery declare.” 

'' Nay, we have no record of the chapters held 
by the brethren in olden time now, for they 
were burned with the old minster ; but there is 
with us stilf an old man who can remember the 
talk of the older brethren when he came here a 
boy, and he likewise read the old records con- 
cerning the monk Leofwine, and the heresy he 
brought to this house from beyond the seas.” 

Then I would fain see this old man ere it 
be too late, for if I know wherefore the curse 
came, I may know better what will tend to its 
removal. Please, therefore, lead me to him } ” 
he said, somewhat impatiently. 

But the friar demurred at doing this. 


86 


Elfreda. 


“ I can tell thee that it was through the shame- 
ful apostasy of a recreant monk ; and our aged 
brother can tell thee little more than this, and 
that little is not reliable, for his mind is feeble 
now by reason of his great age.” 

Guy, however, would not be put off. “ I must 
see this aged monk myself, and learn from his 
lips all he can tell me,” he said. 

“And then thou wilt go again to the land 
from which thou hast returned, for only at the 
holy sepulcher can such crimes as this be surely 
expiated.” 

“ Be it so, then,” answered Guy ; “ I will take 
upon me the vows of a Knight Hospitaler, and 
journey to Jerusalem, never more to return, if 
need be, so that this curse be removed.” 

Finding that he was not to be put off, the 
prior led him to the sunny side of the cloisters, 
where, remote from the noisy revel going on in 
the church, half a dozen aged monks sat talk- 
ing and sunning themselves. To the eldest of 
duced small party the prior led Guy, and intro- 
this him as a young esquire who wanted to 
hear him repeat the story of the curse of the 
Ericsons. 

The prior spoke carelessly, as though it were 
only a dead legend in which no one had an in- 
terest now ; but the old monk shook his head 


At Crozvland Abbey. 


87 


gravely as he said, Thou askest to hear a sorry 
tale, niy lad — as sorry as it is true ; ” and yet 
the pleasure of having an attentive listener to 
his oft-told tale seemed to give the old man a 
sort of relish in the recital. 

Carefully Guy noted every word, or rather 
every fact, for the old man was garrulous and 
discursive in his narrative, and Guy had to 
disentangle the main thread of the story from 
other minor details having but small connection 
with it ; but as he retraced his steps homeward 
in the quiet twilight he carefully recalled the 
leading incidents, which were as follows : — 

About a hundred and forty years ago one Le- 
ofwine Ericson entered this house and became a 
monk. He was studious, and given to the study 
and use of herbs for medicinal purposes, and 
while here was accused of witchcraft. Then he 
went beyond the seas in search of a brother and 
the pursuit of knowledge, and was absent many 
years, during which he spent much time in Rome. 
Then the brother came back, not wild and law- 
less as he had once been, but paying little heed 
to the commands of holy Church, which thing 
was not much noted until the monk came back 
to this house, when he at once began to prac- 
tice the outlandish fashion of preaching and 
exhorting the brethren, and all who would listen 


88 


Elfreda. 


to him. But even this was not the worst, for 
in his sermons he boldly declared that the pope 
was a proud, evil, ambitious man, and that the 
only true faith was to be found among some 
people dwelling in certain valleys of the Alps, 
and it was well known that these people had 
long declared themselves the enemies of the 
pope, and refused to worship the virgin mother 
as well as the saints, and impiously declared that 
the bread and wine in the holy Eucharist were 
not changed into the body, blood, and divinity 
of the Lord Christ, as the Church expressly de- 
clared. The old charge of witchcraft and the 
practice of magic was brought against him, for 
he was more skillful in curing the ailments of 
those who came to the monastery infirmary 
than any of the brethren, and likewise incited 
the people to hold fast by their Saxon Scriptures 
after it had been forbidden by the holy father. 
All these crimes would probably have brought 
swift destruction upon the offender, had not the 
hatred of Norman rule and Norman prelates 
made the monks slow to betray one of their 
brethren, and so this Leofwine was suffered to 
live and die in peace ; but when it reached the 
ears of a later abbot he laid this ^urse upon 
the family, and it had never been removed. 


The Curse of the Ericsons. 


89 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE CURSE OF THE ERICSONS. 

S Guy walked homeward he sifted out 



\ from the tangled mass of the story three 
distinct charges against the old monk — diso- 
bedience, heresy, and rebellion : rebellion, not 
against the State, but against that higher, great- 
er power, the Church, which he thought en- 
hanced the crime. Little wonder was it, then, 
that all bearing his name had been doomed to 
groan under a heavy curse ever since, and 
that evil and misery followed them wherever 
they went ; and yet his mother and that gen- 
tle girl, Elfreda, what had they done to merit 
such a doom } Was it just of the Church not 
to remove this ban from innocent victims like 
them } 

How much more bold and daring these 
questionings might have grown no one could 
tell ; but at this moment Guy was aroused 
from the reverie into which he had fallen by the 
sudden re-appearance of a party of his followers 
who had been sent to search for him. 

The Lady de Valery is sorely troubled at 


90 


Elfreda. 


thy long absence/' said the leader, as he reined 
in his horse close to Guy. 

Her care is needless, I am able to protect 
myself," answered Guy in a tone of annoyance ; 
“ how fares it with my hawk now ? She was not 
able to mount upon my wrist when I came 
forth ? " 

“ Nay, I know not, for I am not skilled in 
the ways of hawks ; but, doubtless, the falconer 
hath given all due care to thy favorite’s ailment. 
Thou must hasten thy steps or the curfew bell 
will sound ere we reach the draw-bridge," 
added the old retainer, placing himself at Guy’s 
side, while the rest of the party fell behind. 

He had scarcely done this when, drawing 
near a thick copse, a party of men sprang out 
upon them, roughly dressed in Lincoln green 
doublets, and each armed with a stout club, 
which they flourished around the heads of 
the retainers as soon as they offered any re- 
sistance. 

“ Deliver thy pouches," said the leader in a 
commanding tone; ‘'we ease all men of such 
burdens;" and Guy was instantly dragged from 
his horse, while his captor drew forth a short 
sword and held it menacingly to his breast. 

Guy laughed at the man’s threat. “ Thou 
must even take my pouch, but I warn thee that 


The Ctirse of the Ericsons. 91 

thou wilt find little in it, for Guy de Valery 
brought but little from the Holy Land, and is 
not at liberty to gain much here in poor En- 
gland." 

The man held back as he heard the name. 

De Valery," he said : “ I have sworn that my 
hand shall never be lifted against a De Valery, 
though they be of the cursed Norman stock 
that eat up our land like grasshoppers. Ho, 
there, my i|^rry-men ! " he cried ; the clerks 
of St. Nicholas are not so fond of merks and 
zechins that they can forget their plighted 
words :" and before Guy could recover from his 
astonishment the band of outlaws had hastily 
retreated, leaving the young esquire and his 
party little the worse for the encounter. 

‘‘The accursed churls have more sense of 
honor than belted knights, in some cases," 
grumbled the leader, as though he repented the 
departure of their assailants. The men, how- 
ever, who were but slightly armed and unequal 
in numbers, were evidently glad to be let off so 
easily, and Guy needed no further urging to 
hasten his steps homeward. 

That their lord had by some unknown means 
won the favor of a powerful band of outlaws be- 
came the topic of conversation among his fol- 
lowers for the next few days, and Sir Valence 


92 


Elfreda. 


himself laughed when Guy recounted to him 
the strange termination of the encounter. 

Better friends than foes/' he said lightly. 

But Lady de Valery looked very uneasy. 

Those Saxon churls are strange men/' she 
said ; '' and though they doubtless have a good 
reason for showing favor to those of our name, 
I trow we were better without such doubtful 
distinction." 

‘‘ Thou wouldst rather they had carried me 
off to their fastness in the greenwood until my 
father could ransom me ? " said Guy, with a 
spice of mischief in his tone. 

Nay, I would rather thou hadst been here, 
or tending the flying of the falcons," said the 
lady. “ But why didst thou go to Crowland ? " 
she inquired of her son. 

There was a merry feast of fools in the 
minster, and free drinking of scot-ale, and all 
the village — " 

'' Nay ; but, my son, thou art not given to 
feasting like these gluttonous Saxons and their 
swine-herds," interrupted the lady. 

“ My mother, is it well to despise these Sax- 
ons as though they were dogs } As old Bracy 
said of these robbers, they have as deep a sense 
of honor as belted knight or sworn Hospitaler. 
My mother, wouldst thou be glad to see me a 


The Curse of the Ericsons. 93 

Knight of St. John, a Knight Hospitaler } ” he 
suddenly asked. 

Nay, nay, Guy ; thou hast been to the Holy 
Land, and let that suffice thee,” said his mother, 
a little impatiently ; and as for espousing the 
cause of Saxon churls, it were better not to 
talk of this beyond thy mother’s bower, for 
Prince John is said to hate them as bitterlv 
as doth the queen mother, and will gradually 
withdraw from them all the liberties and immu- 
nities granted by his father.” 

Then trouble will come of it ; for these En- 
glish, or Saxons, as they are sneeringly called 
— are a brave people, and I have heard that 
our great conqueror, William, would have been 
driven back to Normandy if their chosen king, 
Harold, had not been slain in the first battle, 
for he was England’s heart, and the nation was 
prostrated with grief at the loss of her hero, 
especially as there was no recognized leader to 
take his place.” 

''Guy, Guy, what art thou saying.? who hath 
bewitched thee into loving this despised race.?” 
and Lady de Valery trembled with fear lest her 
son had discovered his own near relationship to 
them. No one but herself knew how her days 
had become a bitterness and her nights a con- 
tinual dread through this very thing, and now 


94 


Elfreda. 


she almost shuddered as Guy lifted his large 
liquid eyes and looked so searchingly into 
hers. 

If he had seen any thing like encouragement 
in her face he would have poured out all his 
heart before her — told her of the secret he had 
become possessed of, and his determination to 
lift the curse from the Ericsons ; but the lady 
had summoned all her pride of bearing to aid 
her in this critical moment, and Guy saw noth- 
ing in his mother’s face but a cold, proud, 
haughty contempt for the despised Saxons ; 
and a chill feeling, such as he had never known 
before, crept into his heart. 

After sitting thus for a few minutes he rose 
from his lowly seat among the rushes at his 
mother’s side and silently withdrew, and Lady 
de Valery covered her face with her hands and 
almost groaned aloud. 

A few days later Guy returned to his duties 
at Lincoln, and to prepare for his master’s de- 
parture to London, for the lengthened absence 
of the king was causing the greatest uneasiness 
among his faithful followers ; while his brother 
John, aided by Philip of France, was taking 
every advantage of his absence to oppress his 
subjects. So Sir Hugh de Lancy and a few 
other knights had resolved to make some effort 


The Cttrse of the Ericsons. 95 

to discover the fate of their royal master, for at 
present there had been no tidings of him re- 
ceived, and Sir Hugh laughed at the wild, ro- 
mantic plan that had been proposed by one 
of his companions — a troubadour minstrel — 
which was to go through Europe with his harp 
and sing under the walls of every castle the 
songs Richard had often sung in the old days 
with him. Knowing the king’s love of the old 
Provencal minstrelsy, his friend thought he 
would be sure to raise his voice in unison with 
the familiar strain ; and the queen mother, who 
herself knew the power of song, hoped much 
from this pilgrimage of the troubadour. 

To grave old knights like Sir Hugh, however, 
the plan seemed so wild that it only provoked 
their anger to talk of it, and there were whis- 
pers of the queen mother being crazy concern- 
ing every thing that came from her Provengal 
home, and her love of the gay, luxurious south- 
ern Provence, where she had been used to sit as 
presiding queen in the courts of love and beau- 
ty, held by these same troubadour minstrels. 

According to all Guy heard, these poets were 
as bold in defying the Church and denouncing 
the vices of the clergy as this poet was in brav- 
ing the dangers of a search for King Richard, 
and he wished he could go to Provence and hear 


96 


Elfreda. 


some of their bold songs. Could it be worse to 
defy the Church by preaching than by singing, 
and if it were not, why had not the pope put 
down this troubadour minstrelsy ? 

Guy had not been long in London before he 
again went to see Elfreda, to make inquiries 
about he old Jew he had rescued. He wished 
he could have told her that the curse was re- 
moved from her family ; but, alas ! this seemed 
as far off as ever now, and Guy could only hope 
she had forgotten it during his absence. 

He found Longbeard was more busy than 
ever now, giving not only his time, but as much 
as he could possibly spare of his means, for the 
relief and defense of the poor English citizens 
who were so heavily taxed to support Prince 
John’s extravagance, and pay the debts of the 
crusade. 

Longbeard welcomed Guy frankly, but at the 
same time warned him that it might bring 
trouble upon him if it were known that he 
visited one so obnoxious to the Norman nobles. 

“ I care not,” answered Guy, his eyes follow- 
ing Elfreda as she crossed the room. He won- 
dered what the indefinable change could be that 
seemed to have come over her during his absence. 
He had left her little more than a child, and 
now she seemed to be transformed into a beau- 


The Curse of the Ericsons. 97 

tiful woman— as beautiful and stately as Lady 
de Valery herself, only Elfreda’s face was calm 
and gentle instead of proud and haughty, like 
his mother s. Guy, too, felt shy and nervous in 
her presence, and dared not say what he had 
intended ; and yet he came again and again, 
and talked of the crusade, and the king’s match- 
less prowess, and Saladin’s chivalry. But it was 
a long time before Guy could venture to tell her 
of his visit to Crowland, and what he had heard 
there. The idea of a curse being connected 
with that calm, gentle, helpful woman, who was 
evidently the sunshine of her household, and 
the dearest friend of both Longbeard and his 
wife, seemed as wild and unlikely to Guy as the 
troubadour’s search for the king seemed to his 
anxious nobles. 

Guy was sent now and then as a messenger 
to Normandy, where King Richard’s wife and 
mother were living, and at length he returned 
with the startling news that the king’s prison 
had been discovered at last ; discovered, too, 
by the troubadour who had been scorned and 
sneered at so much. The minstrel had jour- 
neyed through France, Germany, and Austria, 
singing close to each castle that came in his 
way. At last his patient perseverance had 
been rewarded. At the Castle of Tiernstein, 


98 


Elfreda. 


where he sang a lay composed by himself and 
the king conjointly, the stanza of Richard’s 
composition had been sung by a prisoner in- 
side the walls in response to his own refrain ; 
and that this prisoner was the captive king, he 
felt sure. 

The tale seemed hardly credible to the mat- 
ter-of-fact citizens of London, but it was soon 
confirmed by the news that Duke Leopold 
of Austria had sold their brave king to the 
emperor of Germany for ten thousand pounds. 
Loud and angry were the protests of clergy 
and people, both Norman and Saxon, at this 
ignominious treatment of the champion of the 
cross, and a petition was at once sent to the 
pope praying him to excommunicate both the 
duke and emperor for their conduct in the 
matter. 

The archbishop of Canterbury, Longchamp, 
thought it better, however, to appeal to the 
emperor, and to learn through him the terms 
on which the valiant though indiscreet king of 
England might be restored to liberty. By his 
influence it was arranged that the unfortu- 
nate Richard should appear before the diet 
at Haguenau to clear himself of the charges 
brought against him, and his defense so moved 
the diet that his chains were at once ordered 


The Curse of the Erics ons. 99 

to be removed, and a treaty arranged for his 
ransom. 

It was joyful tidings for the citizens of Lon- 
don, who were groaning under the exactions of 
Prince John, and hoped much from the known 
generosity of King Richard ; but when it was 
made known that a hundred thousand merks 
must be raised as the price of his ransom, the 
heavily-taxed people almost despaired of ever 
seeing their king again, for how could this vast 
sum of money be got together from their im- 
poverished country ! 

Longbeard grew more anxious too, for he 
knew that the down-trodden Saxons of the 
city, so unequally taxed as compared with their 
richer Norman neighbors, were now talking of 
revolt, thinking that the absence of the king, 
and the unpopularity of Prince John, would be 
a good opportunity for the election of one of the 
old line of Saxon kings. Had there been the 
least chance of success Longbeard would doubt- 
less have favored the plan ; but he knew that 
every town and village in England was frowned 
upon by a Norman fortress, whose lord could 
easily put down the insurrection of the few frank- 
lins and their servants who lived near. He knew, 
too, what his more ignorant countrymen failed 

to perceive, that this Norman conquest had 
1 


lOO 


Elfreda. 


not been an iiiiiTiitigated curse to the land, cruel 
and harsh as their rulers were. No! no! the 
Normans had brought with them the arts of a 
civilization almost unknown in Saxon England, 
and a temperance and chivalry undreamed of 
before : and though drunkenness and gluttony 
might still prevail, the Norman chivalrous treat- 
ment of women, and their higher refinement 
and respect to law, were exerting a wide-spread 
and deep influence for good upon the English 
character and manners, and softening much of 
their former ruggedness and ferocity. . 

To the far-seeing Longbeard a blending of 
the opposing races was the only hope for En- 
gland ; but how this was to be effected while 
England remained but a feudatory part of Nor- 
mandy, and her kings were forever striving to 
grasp the crown of France, and thus reduce 
her to a petty province, he could not see ; but 
he was content to wait, and steadily opposed 
all the schemes of the would-be rebels. He 
cheerfully contributed his quota for the ran- 
som of King Richard, and helped many of the 
poorer citizens to do the same ; but with all 
the people’s willingness to give, it was some 
months before the required sum was collected ; 
and it was not until the following year, 1194, 
that King Richard reached England. To the 


The Curse of the Ericsons. loi 

great disappointment of his subjects, he made 
only a short stay when he did come, and then 
hastened once more across the channel to make 
war against King Philip for his perfidy in help- 
ing his^brother to usurp the kingdom, caring 
very little that London was still groaning under 
the exactions which had been imposed by the 
usurper. 


102 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CHALLENGE. 

HE war with France continued for two 



JL years with varying success, most of the 
money needful for its prosecution being drawn 
from England, while the murmurs of the Saxon 
citizens of London grew louder and more omi- 
nous. Longbeard was their declared leader now, 
and he appeared for them before the municipal 
council, declaring that the taxes were unfairly 
levied, and threatening to appeal to the king if 
this was not remedied. His threat was laughed 
at, but Longbeard was not a man to be ridi- 
culed out of a purpose, so he crossed the sea, 
and went to Richard’s camp and boldly stated 
his grievance. 

The king promised to investigate the matter, 
and Longbeard returned quite elated to Lon- 
don ; but, alas! his joy was of short duration. 
That a Saxon should dare to seek an audience 
of the king was something so unheard of that 
the Norman rage knew no bounds, and the first 
thing he saw as he entered the postern of Lon- 
don Bridge was the proclamation of the chief- 


103 


The Challenge. 

justice forbidding any commoner of London 
quitting the city without permission under the 
penalty of being imprisoned as a traitor. Con- 
fident of the king’s promised protection, Long- 
beard advised that should the calls of business 
require any tradesman to leave the city, he 
should do so without regard to the proclama- 
tion. Many, however, shrank from doing this, 
for Hubert Gautier w^as not only chief-justice, 
but primate of England, and therefore disobe- 
dience to his commands as archbishop was re- 
bellion against the Church. 

Stamford Fair, however, proved too strong a 
temptation for even this fear. Many tradesmen 
wanted to go, some of whom went without ob- 
taining the required permission, and were ar- 
rested and thrown into prison. 

No word had come from King Richard, and 
Longbeard, despairing now of the promised re- 
dress, placed himself at the head of his country- 
men, who formed themselves into an association 
for mutual defense, and collected all the arms 
they could get together — staves shod with 
iron, hatchets, and iron crows. Fifty thousand 
desperate men thus armed was no insignificant 
force, and Longbeard, for the first time, seemed 
to lose his prudence when he saw this multitude 
gathered round him. To show his contempt 


104 Elfreda. 

for Norman usages and rule, he commenced his 
harangue by quoting a text from the proscribed 
Saxon Scriptures, which at once gained for him 
the ear of the people, for they had clung with 
the utmost obstinacy to the use of the vernacu- 
lar Scriptures, to* the great annoyance of their 
Norman prelates. Had Longbeard been more 
prudent and less confident something might 
have been gained by this popular rising ; but 
after the primate had convoked several meetings 
of the citizens, and addressed them in his office 
of archbishop, promising them full redress of 
all wrongs, and punishment for sedition, the 
number of Longbeard’s followers began to de- 
crease. They dared not disobey the Church, 
and the wily archbishop, seeing the power he 
had gained over them, next claimed, as chief- 
justice and regent, a child from every family of 
Saxon descent, to be held in Norman fortresses 
as hostages for the preservation of peace. The 
citizens were taken by surprise, but they yield- 
ed to the demand. 

Guy de Valery had just returned with his 
master from Richard’s camp, and incautiously 
went to see Elfreda and inquire about her 
safety the very day this demand was made 
known. 

He was still at the house when Longbeard 


The Challenge. 105 

returned from a consultation with his fellow-al- 
dennen concerning his approaching trial before 
the archbishop. Spies and friends alike had 
accompanied him home, the latter assuring him 
he had nothing to fear, an assurance Longbeard 
seemed scarcely to need while he was with them, 
for he was himself sanguine as to the result 
until he came into his wife’s presence, and his 
eyes fell upon their only child, who sat on the 
floor at her feet. Then all his firmness forsook 
him, and covering his face with his hands, he 
turned toward the window, that none might see 
the agony depicted there. 

In a moment Guy was by his side, frankly 
holding forth his hand. We are kin. Long- 
beard,” he said, ‘‘ and I will carry thy wife and 
child to a place of safety. I will set off this 
very night to Bourne if thou wilt give them to 
my charge.” 

The Saxon turned his white, haggard face 
and looked pityingly at Guy. “ Thou sayest 
truly, we are kin, and thou art foolish to come 
here. I warned thee of thy danger before, and 
told thee, too, the* Church forbade thy union 
with Elfreda,” said William. 

A heightened color stole into Guy’s face as 
he answered, It was not of Elfreda alone I 
was thinking, but of thy child. Suffer me to 


io6 Elfreda. 

carry her to my father s castle for safety, and 
thou canst say she is in a Norman fortress for 
safe keeping.” 

''And thinkest thou that thy father’s castle 
will be deemed fortress enough for Saxon chil- 
dren ? Nay, nay, not even for his own will this 
suffice. The few drops of Norman blood flow- 
ing in thy veins will not save thee from insult 
if it is known thou art kin to William the 
Saxon.” 

" It is known,” gasped Guy, pale with horror 
at the thought of what might befall his family 
through his want of caution. 

" Hasten, then, to Bourne with all speed, for 
thy father is known to favor the Saxons under 
his rule, and if it be known he is connected 
with William Longbeard, his Norman blood 
will count for little in these evil days.” 

" But Elfreda and thy child ! Let me take 
them with me,” pleaded Guy. 

" Nay, they will be safer in London at pres- 
ent,” replied Longbeard. " I have seen old 
Nathan, the Jew, and he hath promised to take 
care of them, and, if need be^ to bear them across 
the sea, where I also purpose to join them by 
and by.” 

" Nay, but were it not better to cross the sea 
with them thyself at Quce,” urged Guy, and in 


The Challe 7 tge. 1 07 

this plea he was seconded by Lon gbeard’s wife, 
as well as Elfreda. 

But the sturdy patriot tore himself away from 
the tearful caresses of both wife and child. 
“Wilt thou with these lamentations break my 
heart, and make me forget I am an English- 
man } ” he inquired somewhat sternly. Then, 
turning to Guy, he said, “ Thy duty is plain : 
hasten to Bourne, and give thy father timely 
warning of the danger impending.” 

“ And thy duty is — ” 

“Hush!” interrupted Longbeard in a com- 
manding tone. “ My duty is to stand by my 
countrymen in this hour of peril, and deliver 
them from the tyranny of Church and State.” 

In vain Elfreda and Guy pleaded that the 
care of his own family was now of paramount 
importance, and that little could be hoped for 
when the enemy held their children as hos- 
tages. 

Longbeard was immovable in his determina- 
nation. “ I have sworn,” said he, “ to be the 
friend of the poor, as Norman knights swear 
the oath of chivalry, and I will not go back from 
my word ; ” and as he spoke he glanced at Guy, 
who had so recently taken that oath on the bat- 
tle-field in France. 

“ It is enough,” he said. “There is English 


io8 


Elfreda. 


chivalry as well as Norman. Thou art right, 
Longbeard, and henceforth I am an English 
knight." 

At nightfall Guy sallied forth, fully armed, 
but with only one esquire, to give warning 
to his friends at Bourne what they might expect 
from any messenger coming from London. He 
traveled with all the speed the bad state of the 
roads would allow, never drawing rein until 
within sight of his old home, except to change 
horses ; but the journey was a long one, and 
when faint and almost exhausted Guy at length 
reached the draw-bridge, and wound the horn, 
calling for admittance, he saw, to his dismay, 
that other visitors had arrived there only a 
short time before him, and he guessed only too 
truly that they were messengers from the arch- 
bishop. 

Silently and sadly the old warder lowered 
the drawbridge and admitted the newly-made 
knight, who should have been received amid 
the bray of trumpets and the joyful shouts of 
all the men-at-arms. Very different was this 
home-coming of Guy’s from what every body 
at Bourne had planned. 

The shouts, however, were not wanting when 
the younger men saw him, but Guy raised his 
hand in a moment, and commanded silence. 


The Challenge. 109 

Thou hast received other visitors to-day ? ” 
he said, glancing at the strangers’ horses. 

“ Hubert of Grantham hath sent messengers 
from the lord archbishop,” replied the old 
warder. 

^‘Hubert of Grantham — my father’s old 
enemy,” exclaimed Guy : and, flinging himself 
from his horse, he made his way as quickly 
as he could toward the great hall, where his 
father was holding a parley with the unwelcome 
visitors. 

Say but the word. Sir Guy, and these mes- 
sengers shall go to the bottom of the moat in- 
stead of Grantham,” whispered one as Guy 
passed on toward the hall. He tried to appear 
calm and indifferent, as if unaware of the object 
of their visit, hoping that his fears might be 
groundless after all ; but the first words that 
fell upon his ear dissipated these hopes. 

A son and a daughter of Sir Valence de Val- 
ery we are commanded to bear back with us to 
Grantham,” said one. 

Nay, but I dispute the right,” interrupted 
Guy, stepping boldly forward. “ Thy pardon 
and thy blessing, my father,” he said, more hum- 
bly, ^‘and thy forgiveness, too, for thus taking 
up this question ; but I am belted knight, even 
as Sir Hubert of Grantham, and I have sworn 


no 


Elfreda. 


to suffer no wrong upon any man which my 
good sword can redress.” 

“ Nay, nay, thou knowest not whereof thou art 
speaking, my son,” said Sir Valence with a slight 
tremor in his voice as he glanced at the parch- 
ment lying open before him, and which seemed 
to be the men’s warrant for their demand. Guy 
looked at it, too, and saw that the whole family 
were classed as Saxons, wholly ignoring the 
Norman descent of Sir Valence himself. The 
knight had been too much absorbed in amaze- 
ment and horror at the demand made to notice 
this or aught else, but that a son and daughter 
must be given up to the care of his cruelest foe ; 
but Guy saw tliis at once. He had not looked 
over legal documents with Longbeard without 
catching some of his acumen in detecting their 
plans. 

We are not Saxons,” he exclaimed, ‘‘ and 
this demand is illegal.” 

“ Be not hasty, my son,” said Sir Valence, and 
he leaned forward and whispered a few words 
in his ear. 

But instead of looking shocked and disgusted, 
as the old knight expected, Guy answered : “ I 
know it all, my father, but I am still an English 
knight, and I claim the right of an Englishman 
to defend the oppressed. See to it, ye Nor- 


Ill 


The Challenge. 

mans, and bear the gauntlet of Guy de Valery 
to Hubert of Grantham, for thou shalt not touch 
either brother or sister on that warrant,” and as 
he spoke Guy drew off his glove and threw it 
down before the messengers. 

They looked up in blank surprise at the 
daring young knight, while a shout from the 
de Valery attendants echoed through the castle 
reaching even to the room of Lady de Valery. 

Thou darest our master to single combat ! ” 
exclaimed one of the messengers, picking up 
the gauntlet. 

I challenge him to meet me in the lists 
whensoever and wheresoever he will,” replied 
Guy defiantly ; and, once more speaking a few 
words of apology, he left the hall and went up 
to his mother s bower. 

Lady de Valery had been told of the coming 
of the messengers and the object of their visit, 
and now she was sitting among the rushes 
upon the floor almost speechless with despair 
and humiliation. She turned her head as Guy 
entered the room, and, seeing who it was, 
started to her feet, and rushed into the arms ot 
her son. 

O, Guy, my son, thou hast won thy knightly 
spurs fairly and honorably, but thy knighthood 
is of little worth now !” she exclaimed. 


I 12 


Elfreda. 


'' Of little worth ! ” repeated Guy, and where- 
fore not, my lady mother ? 

‘^Because — because — O, Guy, thou hast not 
heard of our dire disgrace, that thou art not 
of pure Norman descent, and therefore our 
children are to be taken from us.” 

Guy turned aside his head for a moment to 
conquer his emotion, and then, speaking as 
calmly as he could, he said : My mother, I 
have long known this family secret, and have, 
I fear, helped to bring this trouble upon thee 
and then he went on to tell her of his ac- 
quaintance with Elfreda and her Saxon rela- 
tive, Longbeard, who was the leader of the late 
insurrection. 

Lady de Valery shivered as she listened to 
his story. '' O, the curse, the curse ! that girl 
hath truly brought it back upon us ; even as they 
said she would. If it had not been for her none 
need have known that thy mother was a Saxon 
and the lady sank down among the rushes 
again, as if utterly crushed by the weight of 
her misery. 

Bitter as his mother’s ^rrow was, however, 
he could not bear to hear Elfreda blamed, and 
so gently raising her to a chair, he said, Nay, 
nay, my mother, blame not this girl ; for if thou 
hadst kept her with thee this thing might not 


The Challenge, 1 1 3 

have been known — or, at least, not thought of 
just now. For myself, however, I care not, for 
I have learned to glory in the name of English- 
man, and mean to be known as one of the brav- 
est knights of English chivalry. And now, my 
mother, listen to me. I have learned some- 
thing from this William Longbeard, the Saxon 
— learned to know a legal from an illegal de- 
mand, and this that hath been sent by Hubert 
of Grantham is an illegal one, for it demandeth 
two children instead of one, therefore the mes- 
sengers must e’en depart without either, to get 
this amended.” 

‘'Nay, nay, Guy, deceive me not with such 
vain words, but let me seek strength from the 
saints to part with my children if need be,” 
said the lady sadly. 

“ The saints will help thee, my mother, wnen 
the time comes ; but we feed not our hawks 
until they be hungry, and so the saints will not 
help thee to-night for a trial that may not come 
for a month. Listen to that shout ! The mes- 
sengers have even now departed.” 

“ Gone, and I have not bidden farewell to my 
children ! ” exclaimed the lady, starting forward. 

But at this moment the arras was pushed 
aside, and her husband entered the room. 
“ Calm thyself, Alftruda, and thank the saints 


114 


Elfreda. 


that Guy came home to-night, for the messen- 
gers have departed, carrying only his gauntlet 
to Hubert, their master.” 

''And my children are safe — saved by thee, 
my Guy r and once more the lady threw her- 
self into her son's arms. " But what sayest 
thou the messengers have taken ? ” she asked 
in a minute or two. " Surely, thou hast not sent 
a defiance to this Hubert of Grantham } ” 

" And wherefore not, my mother.^ Have I 
not fought under Richard the Lion-hearted, and 
thinkest thou my heart will turn to water at 
the sight of a sword or battle-ax at a tourna- 
ment ? For this Hubert, in his vanity, will call 
all England together to witness his victory, I 
doubt not, and I shall be challenged to meet 
him thus in the lists ? ” 

"And it will be no child’s play,” said Sir 
Valence, with something of a sigh. 

" I am beyond child’s play now, my father. 
I am a man, and a sworn knight as. well as a 
warrior, and I will meet this Hubert wherever 
he willeth.” 

A week later the summons came again from 
Sir Hubert to deliver up one child to his cus- 
tody, and for the knight. Sir Guy de V'alery, 
to meet him in open combat in the lists at 
Grantham. 


The Tournament 


115 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE TOURNAMENT. 

EWS of the approaching tournament at 



-L ^ Grantham, in which Guy de Valery was 
to play so conspicuous a part, was soon known 
throughout the neighborhood, and for a time 
became the all-absorbing topic. Saxon swine- 
herds and slaves of all conditions, as well as 
Norman knights and proud ladies, were always 
anxious to be present at such a spectacle, and 
this about to take place had increased inter- 
est for the inhabitants of Bourne, for Guy de 
Valery was already known as a brave knight, 
and tender and gentle withal. Perhaps the 
fact of his being half Saxon by birth had some- 
thing to do with the lessening of the prejudice 
against him on the part of the oppressed race, 
for this was known far more generally than 
Lady de Valery supposed, and now it was open- 
ly talked of ; in addition to which the trouble 
of the family at the castle in having to give up 
their son, drew them nearer to the hearts of 
their dependents. 

It was, perhaps, the first tournament Lady de 


8 


Elfreda. 


1 16 

Valery had not looked forward to with pleasure ; 
and now, if it had not been that she was in- 
tensely anxious. to be near Guy, she would gladly 
have remained at home or spent the time while 
he was fighting at the tomb of St. Waltheof, at 
Crowland, for she shrank from appearing in 
the pavilion among those proud Norman dames 
who would scorn her for her Saxon birth. The 
dreadful secret must be known throughout the 
length and breadth of England now, for it was 
this that had been the main cause of this tour- 
nament being given — their foe would triumph 
in their shame to the very utmost by publishing 
the cause of the quarrel about to be decided by 
combat. Guy, too, seemed obstinately bent on 
perpetuating the disgrace by refusing to appear 
as a Norman knight, declaring he would enter 
the lists as an Englishman, and the champion 
of English chivalry. 

Lady de Valery alternately blamed Elfreda 
and that old monk of the Ericson family who 
hai brought the curse upon them, but never 
once glanced at the possibility of being herself 
the cause of all this exposure and trouble. Her 
husband ventured to say that it would have 
been better to have, kept the orphan girl with 
them ; but the lady shook her head. The curse 
would have been more dire in its effects if she 


The Toiirnarnent. 


117 


had been here ; see what hath befallen her kins- 
man in London : he is charged with sedition, and 
his life may yet be forfeit through this curse.” 

In vain her husband tried to show her that 
Elfreda had very little to do with the public ac- 
tions of Longbeard ; she would not be con- 
vinced of that any more than she would ac- 
knowledge that it was her own pride that had 
brought this trouble upon themselves. 

O the curse, the curse ! ” she wailed, as she 
sat rocking herself on the floor, and for some 
days she refused even to direct her bower 
maidens in their work, or select the dresses she 
and Adelais would wear at the tournament. 
Her soul was bowed with grief for her youngest 
darling who had just been taken from her and 
committed to the care of Sir Hubert ; she was 
likewise full of anxiety for the fate of Guy — 
not that she doubted his bravery, but Sir Hu- 
bert was a tried and skilled warrior, and more- 
over, every one would shout for him, while Guy 
would be left without a companion to enter the 
lists by his side. She was still bowed with 
grief when Adelais suddenly entered the bower 
looking very angry and indignant. 

Guy hath forgotten his knighthood, my 
mother ; forgotten that he is even a Christian,” 
said the young lady. 


I I 8 Elfred A. 

'' Why, what hath he done now,’’ sighed the 
lady, wearily, 

'‘He hath brought home a Jew! a Jew, my 
mother ! one of the accursed race whom no 
Christian will approach.” 

But instead of being shocked, Lady de Valery 
started to her feet exclaiming, " Where is he — 
this Jew — he may be able to help us in our sore 
trouble ? ” 

Adelais looked at her mother, fearing this 
sorrow had turned her brain. " My mother, if 
St. Dunstan and St. Thomas a Beck^et cannot 
help us, this old Jew cannot,” she said. 

But Lady de Valery had heard more about 
the power and learning of these, and their 
knowledge of the occult sciences and healing 
art than Adelais, and so she insisted upon going 
down at once to the entrance hall, where, on a 
low stool, apart from all the servants, who feared 
the contamination of his presence too much to 
go near him, sat an old man, white haired and 
bent, dressed in a ragged gabardine. 

He rose and bowed his head almost to the 
ground as the lady drew near, for in her anx- 
iety to consult him. Lady de Valery forgot her 
pride — forgot every thing but her anxiety to 
save her children. 

" Old man, I have heard that thy people are 


The Tournament. 


119 

learned in magical arts, and the knowledge of 
herbs- and healing balsams, and I need the ex- 
ercise of thy skill at this time.” 

The old man had grown pale while she was 
speaking, and now trembled like an aspen leaf 
as he said, '' Father Abraham, help me. I came 
not hither, gracious lady, to practice magical 
arts, but a goodly knight found me fainting by 
the way, and brought me hither to rest and 
refresh myself Old Nathan is poor, very poor ; 
he hath been despoiled of his goods until he 
hath but this coat and girdle left. I cannot 
give thee gold or jewels to release me, but — ” 
Nay, nay ; I want not thy gold, old man, 
but thy skill for this same young knight who 
brought thee hither. He is to fight in the tour- 
nament at Grantham, and he — he may be sore- 
ly wounded,” — and the lady’s voice quivered as 
she spoke. 

The Jew looked at her curiously, as raising 
his eyes to her face he said, “ My people hath 
learned somewhat of this healing art, but I am 
poor, very poor, and the balsams and medica- 
ments to cure wounds are costly, and I have not 
a silver penny in my pouch.” 

Nay, I ask thee not to spend thy money, 
old man, I will give thee what thou needest for 
the purchase of herbs and balsams, and for the 


120 


Elfreda. 


other matter — ” The lady drew a step nearer and 
spoke in a lower tone, and the shivering fear 
returned upon the old Jew as he listened. 

The God of my fathers deliver me ! Dost 
thou think I can restore thy child by magic ? 
Nay, nay, I tell thee the old Jew knoweth noth- 
ing of this witchcraft, for God hath forbidden 
his chosen people to pollute themselves.'’ 

But the idea of a Jew fearing contamination 
appeared so ridiculous to the lady that she 
turned away in contemptuous scorn. But she 
stopped again when half across the hall. Thou 
art journeying to Grantham, I trow ; see to it 
that these balsams are in readiness should they 
be needed,” and she threw a handful of small 
coins toward the old man. 

He gathered them up eagerly and put them 
into his pouch, chuckling as he shook them to- 
gether, while Lady de Valery returned to her 
bower to make more active preparations for the 
journey and tournament. 

It was not long, however, before Adelais came 
in again with the news that her brother was 
bringing another visitor to the castle, and this 
time she drew her mother to the window to 
watch the approach of the curious cavalcade 
now drawing near the castle gates. j 

By the side of Guy rode a tall, sun-browned 


The Tournament, 


I2I 


man, dressed in a scarlet cloak, cut somewhat 
after the fashion of those worn by monks, and 
adorned with a white cross on the shoulder. A 
cap of the same color, turned up with meniver, 
was on his head, but as the cloak was blown on 
one side as they halted at the draw-bridge, the 
underdress became plainly visible — a shirt of 
linked mail, with sleeves and gloves of the same, 
so close and so finely woven that it might have 
been of silk but for the glitter of its tiny steel 
links. 

'' My mother, who can this be } Hath the 
old Jew departed.^” asked Adelais ; but she 
did not heed her mother’s answer, for she was 
watching the stranger’s war horse, which was 
led behind him fully accoutered, with the head- 
piece and spike projecting in front, while at the 
saddle hung his master’s battle-ax, richly inlaid, 
his plumed head-piece, and two-handed sword. 
All the appointments were so rich and costly 
that Adelais felt sure that their visitor was no 
less a personage than King Richard or Prince 
John, and was somewhat disappointed when 
her mother said : — 

Our visitor is a Knight Templar. One 
whom Guy hath doubtless met in Palestine, and 
who, having but just returned, hath heard noth- 
ing of our shame and disgrace.” 


122 


Elfreda. 


My mother, if this great knight would but 
go with us to the tournament we should not be 
so ashamed. Will Guy ask him, think you ?” ' 
Nay, I know not what foolish thing Guy 
may not do now he hath changed his wardrobe, 
and chooses an ensign half Saxon and half Nor- 
man in color and device.” 

“ Nay, but it would not be foolish to ask this 
knight to bear us company,” said Adelais, who 
saw that it would add much to their importance 
to have him join their company, and take away 
the sting of having all those critical Norman 
eyes levelled at them alone. 

The news that a Knight Templar was stay- 
ing in the neighborhood brought the prior of 
Crowland to the castle ; and hearing that he had 
come on purpose to accompany the young En- 
glish knight into the lists, the worldly-wise prel- 
ate at once expressed a wish to journey with 
them, for the clergy were by no means averse 
to taking their share of whatever merry-making 
might be going on ; and in spite of conventual 
rules and monastic poverty they were as fond 
of dress and display as Adelais de Valery her- 
self True, the fashion of his garments were 
strictly of the monkish shape, but the cloth was 
of the finest, and the sleeves turned up with 
the richest furs ; the mantle secured with a 


The Tournament, 123 

golden clasp, while his well-fed mule was highly 
decorated and adorned with silver bells. 

All these accessories of wealth and power 
being added to their train had wonderfully 
soothed Lady de Valery ; and though she still 
looked forward with some anxiety to the result 
of the conflict, the thought of the despised old 
Jew who brought up the rear of their party, 
mounted on a sumpter mule, gave her renewed 
hope ; for even if Guy was worsted and wounded 
in the encounter, the wonderful balsam and 
herbs old Nathan was to procure from some of 
his people on the way would be sure to cure him 
quickly. 

The gates of Grantham were reached at last, 
and here our party lodged for a few days to rest 
and refresh themselves after their tedious jour- 
ney. It was evident now that Guy looked upon 
this coming encounter as no light matter, for just 
before setting out with his esquire, to take his 
place in the lists, he sought the prior of Crow- 
land. “ Shrive me, my father,” he said, humbly 
falling on his knees before the monk. I would 
that I had come to thee before, for in the hurry 
of this time I may forget some sins I ought to 
confess.” 

“ Nay, thou hast not been undutiful to Holy 
Church, who, as a merciful mother, forgiveth 


124 


Elfreda. 


the sins of all her children,” said the church- 
man lightly. 

But the assurance did not seem to satisfy 
Guy just now. '‘What saith Holy Church 
about the forgiveness of sins — that only those 
confessed can be forgiven — is it not so 

“ Certainly, my son ; hasten therefore to make 
thy confession,” said the prior a little impatient- 
ly, for he was anxious to set out for the lists. 

But it seemed that Guy could not think of 
any thing he ought to confess, and yet he was 
dimly conscious of being burdened, weighed 
down, with an accumulation of unconfessed, and 
therefore unforgiven, sins, for which he must 
obtain absolution before entering upon the 
deadly conflict. 

“ Nay, father, I have been remiss in many of 
my confessions ; sometimes hurried for want of 
time, sometimes forgetful of much that has hap- 
pened. I cannot even now remember much 
that I ought to say, much that needs forgive- 
ness ; will not the Church in her mercy par- 
don—” 

“ Nay, nay, my son, waste not time in useless 
questionings. I have told thee what is the voice 
of the Church in this matter ; hasten, therefore, 
to make thy confession.” 

So Guy detailed all he could think of as being 


The Toimtament. 


125 


needful of absolution, and the prior hurriedly 
pronounced the benediction ; but Guy was not 
satisfied. If he fell in this encounter with Sir 
Hubert, how many years would he be doomed 
to purgatory for his unconfessed, unforgiven 
sins } and how much of this punishment would 
be remitted in consideration of his having fought 
in the holy crusade for the rescue of Jerusalem } 
were queries that floated through Guy’s mind. 

It was a puzzling thought, and one that 
troubled Guy this morning ; but he had little 
time to indulge in such serious reflections, for a 
blast of trumpets summoned him to mount his 
horse, and, with his esquire behind him bearing 
his lance, with its new ensign flutterifl^ in the 
breeze, he rode forward, laughing gayly with his 
companion, the Knight Templar, who seemed 
determined to keep up his friend’s spirits. 

The place chosen for the tournament was a 
large meadow, inclosed by woods on two sides, 
and sloping downward to a level bottom, which 
was inclosed by strong palisades for the lists. 
A gate at either end admitted the combatants ; 
and around the palisades were tents and pavil- 
ions, each adorned with the ensign of a knight, 
and occupied by his friends and family. Near 
the southern end sat Lady de Valery with 
Adelais, and a few ladies of similar rank ; but 


126 


Elfreda. 


Sir Hubert’s pavilion, which was directly oppo- 
site, was crowded with the rank and fashion of 
the Norman nobility. 

The Knight Templar had been eagerly wel- 
comed to take part in the sports which were to 
occupy the greater part of the time, and his pa- 
vilion occupied a central position, and was given 
up mostly to the use of strangers. The towns- 
folk and yeomen found places on the slope of 
the hill, or even on the branches of the trees, 
for all were eager to see the mimic conflict. 
But none were so eager or impatient for the 
heralds to appear and proclaim the laws of the 
tournament as Lady de Valery ; and when at 
length. the signal was given for them to appear, 
she leaned forward white and breathless, won- 
dering whether Guy would be first called upon 
to answer his challenge to Sir Hubert, or wheth- 
er the sports would precede the more serious 
business of this tourney. 

In a long preamble the herald stated the 
whole matter concerning Guy de Valery’s chal- 
lenge, and Adelais, as she heard it, drooped her 
proud head, and would fain have hidden herself 
from the scornful glances that she felt sure were 
being directed toward her ; but Lady de Valery 
had gone through this part of the ordeal so 
often in thought, that, now it had actually come, 


The Tournament. 


127 


she felt very litile discomposure. Moreover, she . 
felt relieved to hear that the challengers who 
were to fight all comers would be allowed to 
try their skill before Sir Hubert and Guy en- 
gaged in their combat. 

Very calmly and indifferently did she watch 
the fall of knights, the killing of horses, and 
wounding of their masters, for it was to her but 
a pageant — a dull show— while Guy was wait- 
ing to b^ announced as the next to enter the 
lists. At length this mimic warfare came to an 
end. Splintered lances were removed out of 
the way ; the musicians, who had urged on the 
combatants with martial strains of music, were 
allowed a few minutes to breathe, and there was 
a general flutter and clatter in all the pavilions 
and galleries, which was as speedily hushed, 
howeyer, on the herald, prefacing his notice with 
a flourish of trumpets, announced the names 
and degrees of the contending knights, Hubert 
de Grantham and Guy de Valery. 

When the two opponents stood facing each 
other at opposite ends of the lists there was but 
one opinion in that crowd of eager faces. Guy 
de Valery could never stand the shock of an 
encounter with the gigantic Hubert. His fa- 
ther himself grew pale as he compared the 
two, while Lady de Valery hid her face for a 


128 


Elfreda. 


moment to call upon the saints for aid in the 
unequal conflict. 

As the trumpets gave the signal for attack 
the knights flew from their posts like lightning, 
meeting in the center of the lists, and shivering 
their lances, while their horses were thrown 
back upon their haunches. 

Lady de Valery screamed, My son, my Guy, 
he is down ! he will be trampled to death ! ” 
but the next moment she saw that he had right- 
ed himself in the saddle, and was waiting for 
Sir Hubert to rise, for he had rolled off his 
horse, and lay on the ground apparently sense- 
less. Guy rode back to his post again, and 
received a fresli lance from the attendants ; but 
still Sir Hubert did not move, and some one 
stepped forward and removed his helmet to 
give him air. 

There was a moment of breathless suspense 
as the attendant bent over his prostrate master. 
Tlie next minute it was known that he was 
dead — had died as he fell from his horse, and 
the conflict was at an end. 


The Old Jew, 


129 


CHAPTER X. 


THE OLD JEW. 


UY sat gazing vacantly at the scene of 



VJT commotion in the middle of the lists, his 
lance still in his hand, as though he were wait- 
ing for another opponent to spring forward. 
No one noticed him now until a faint shriek 
from Lady de Valery attracted the attention of 
a few by-standers, and then they saw that the 
young knight had fallen from his horse, and 
now lay as helpless and prostrate as Sir Hubert 
himself 

’Tis witchcraft,” whispered one. 

''Nay, nay; but the saints have taken up the 
quarrel of Sir Hubert, and struck this presump- 
tuous young knight, who calls himself the 
champion of English chivalry,” said a towns- 
man. 

" English chivalry ! ” sneered another. " But 
his well he did not present himself in the lists 
as a Norman, or he would have been flouted 
with his Saxon birth.” 

"’Tis well, perhaps, that St. Dunstan and the 
other saints have taken this quarrel into their 


130 


Elfreda. 


own hands, for the lithsmen of Sir Hubert 
would be less merciful, I trow.” 

Nay, nay ; St. Dunstan hath had no hand 
in smiting down one of his own nation. If this 
De Valery, of Bourne, hath been struck by other 
powers than witchcraft, ”tis by other saints than 
the English.” 

“ Lady de Valery heard every word that was 
spoken, but she took little heed of either the 
speakers or their words until Guy was carried 
into the pavilion and the old Jew summoned to 
attend him. 

His armor was soon removed by the prac- 
ticed hand of the Hospitaler, and it was soon 
seen that nothing more mysterious than a deep 
wound from Sir Hubert’s lance had caused the 
temporary faintness and loss of blood. Every- 
body praised Lady de Valery’s forethought in 
enlisting the Jew's services. The Knight Hos- 
pitaler walked outside the tent as the old man 
entered, while the rest of the company, although 
of less sanctity than the sacred knight, removed 
themselves to a distance from the Jew’s contam- 
inating presence — all but Lady de Valery ; she 
forgot every thing but that Guy lay wounded 
before her. 

Sir Valence had gone to the pavilion of Sir 
Hubert to make further inquiries into the cause 


The Old yew,. 


131 

of his death, and perform the last ceremonies 
needful for the settlement of this quarrel, and 
learn, if possible, something concerning his 
younger son, now in Sir Hubert’s hands. But 
it seemed that he had not succeeded in his er- 
rand, for, before the old Jew had finished dress- 
ing Guy’s wound, he came back, looking very 
anxious and perturbed. Without noticing his 
wife he stepped up to the old man, and asked 
how soon Guy could be removed — whether it 
would be safe for him to commence the journey 
at once. 

‘^Thou wouldst take him back to his home 
with all speed said the Jew questioningly. 

Nay, but I must find a hiding-place for him, 
and Bourne would be the first place where Sir 
Hubert’s friends would expect to find . him,” 
said the knight ; and then he looked keenly at 
the old Jew, fearing that he had said too much 
in his presence. 

The old man seemed to understand the stead- 
fast gaze, and for once he forgot his usual cring- 
ing manner, and said, in a tone of deep earnest- 
ness, May the God of Abraham, Isaac, and 
Jacob do so to me, and tjie posterity of my peo- 
ple, if old Nathan betray the stranger who be- 
friended him in his hour of need. Nay, nay^ 

proud Norman, thou dost abuse the Jew while 
9 


132 


Elfreda. 


thou art robbing him ; but truth and honor and 
gratitude have not wholly departed from Israel. 
If thy son is in danger give him to the care of 
old Nathan, and my life shall go for his life.” 

Lady de Valery uttered a faint scream at 
the bare proposal. ‘‘ What ! give my son to a 
dog of a Jew when his life may be in peril from 
this wound ! ” she exclaimed. 

Her husband, however, gently led her to one 
side of the pavilion, and whispered a few words 
in her ear. “ We must accept this old man’s 
proposal,” he said, as he concluded. “ The dan- 
ger Guy is in from Sir Hubert’s kinsmen is great- 
er far than that of his wound, and for the sake 
of our other children we must seek some hiding- 
place for him far, far away from Bourne. 

“ The saints are fighting against us in all 
things,” wailed the lady, wringing her hands 
with grief. Then turning to Adelais, who sat 
near, she asked if the embroidered cape prom- 
ised to the prior of Crowland had been sent be- 
fore they set out on their journey. Now Adelais 
had been too much occupied in looking after 
her own dress for this grand occasion to give 
much heed to any other finery, and so she 
could not give a very satisfactory reply. This 
seemed to increase her mother’s grief and ter- 
ror tenfold. 


The Old yew. 


133 


The saints have been insulted, and their 
service neglected, and in anger they have with- 
drawn their protection from us. O, my son, my 
son ! what evil hast thou done that a Jew should 
be chosen to protect thee instead of the blessed 
St. Dunstan and St. Thomas ! ” and the Lady 
de Valery gave herself up to the indulgence of 
her grief, while her husband and the old Jew 
went to make the needful preparations for Guy’s 
removal in a litter. 

Adelais tried to comfort her mother by pro- 
posing another pilgrimage to Canterbury, in 
which she herself would take part ; but the lady 
refused to be comforted. 

It is of little use,” she said ; I went 
barefoot, like the poorest pilgrim, and spent 
the night in tears and fasting by the blessed 
tomb, and thought that most surely St. Thomas 
a Becket would help and protect my son, 
and—” 

But, my mother, thou didst tell us that it 
was through the saint’s mighty protection that 
Guy returned from the holy war in safety,” in- 
terrupted Adelais. 

‘'Yes, it was doubtless through his aid that he 
came back in safety,” admitted the lady ; “ but 
did I not ask that he might be crowned with 
honor — might be the bravest knight in Europe 


134 


Elfreda. 


next to King Richard ? He hath won neither 
name nor fame ; only dishonor hath fallen to his 
share ; and, now that he is given into the hands 
of this Jew, evil and witchcraft will be his por- 
tion, for God and the blessed saints will wholly 
forsake him.” 

'' Could none but a Jew protect him ? Surely 
my father is bewitched to suffer this accursed 
old man, whose touch is pollution, even to ap- 
proach him,” exclaimed Adelais. 

‘‘ They are an accursed race, but they above 
all men are skilled in the curing of wounds and 
the knowledge of balsams and medicaments, and, 
therefore, are they often sought for. They will 
by no means suffer this secret knowledge to be 
imparted to our monks and leech-men. 

would rather die than that a Jew should 
touch me,” said Adelais scornfully ; but it seemed 
that her father, at least, had well-nigh forgotten 
his prejudice against the Jews, for he presently 
returned, conversing familiarly with old Nathan, 
who seemed suddenly to have grown taller, and 
lost half the wrinkles from his yellow, parch- 
ment-skinned face. 

“Now, thou knowest our bargain,” said Sir 
Valence, as they drew near the spot where Guy 
was still lying unconscious. “ I will pay thee 
two hundred zechins now, and when thou 


The Old Jew. 


135 


shalt bring me tidings that my son is safe be- 
yond the sea I will pay thee two hundred 
more.” 

Lady de Valery would again have interposed 
if she could, and handed Guy over to the keep- 
ing of some one less objectionable than a Jew ; 
but for once her husband was firm in having his 
own plans carried out. Most bitterly did the 
lady regret having engaged old Nathan to come 
with them. But, as usual, she blamed the 
saints for what had happened rather than her- 
self. She said she supposed that some sin 
had been committed in her household, or the 
appointed fasts of the Church had not been duly 
kept, and therefore the saints had withdrawn 
their favor from her family. If the thought of 
God himself ever came into the lady’s mind, it 
was with a sort of shudder of apprehension and 
terror. He had been put so far out of sight, and 
the Church had interposed so many mediators 
between the sorrowing, sinful soul of man and 
the tender, pitiful. Saviour, who had died to re- 
deem men from their sin and sorrow, that it was 
not strange Lady de Valery should turn from the 
thought of God as from a hideous nightmare. He 
was the stern, unrelenting judge who would by 
no means clear the guilty. True, there was the 
image of the blessed mother of mercy, with the 


Elfreda. 


136 

child Jesus in her arms, before which she some- 
times prostrated herself, in the minster church 
of Crowland. But the worship of Marv had 
never taken so great a hold upon the mind of 
the northern nations as it had in the south. The 
stern virtue of St. Dunstan, or the bold fear- 
lessness of St. Thomas a Becket, had a far great- 
er charm for the English nation; and, therefore, 
it was not strange that their ideas of God were 
fashioned after the pattern of their favorite 
saints. 

Lady de Valery kissed the pale face of Guy, 
and then, sad-hearted, turned to prepare for her 
own journey homeward, determined to look after 
her household more closely, as well as to per- 
form her own religious duties more thoroughly. 
Poor, heart-broken mother ! how it must have 
grieved the loving heart of the gentle Saviour 
to see her thus turning away from the only 
comfort that could assuage such grief as hers ! 
How greatly his love was misunderstood ! All 
that he had done and suffered was utterly ig- 
nored by those who professed to know him ; 
and we wonder, as we read these dark pages of 
history, how God, with all his long-suffering and 
patience, could bear to see those whom his own 
well-beloved Son had died to redeem thus grop- 
ing in darkness, and turning farther and farther 


The Old yew. 


137 


from him, while they sought consolation and 
strength from the many earthly mediators and 
saviours set forth by their blind guides. But, 
looking back from our vantage ground in the 
nineteenth century, we can see, through the dark- 
ness of that time, ‘^the form of One like unto 
the Son of God ” leading his people, although 
they knew it not. And as the philosophers of 
the day sought, by many a strange process, to 
turn the baser metals into gold, so God, the in- 
finite Alchemist, used even the blunders and 
mistakes of our ancestors for their good ; and 
in due time their race was transformed by the 
working of his mighty power into its present 
dignity and grandeur. We talk of the stern 
virtue and unyielding honesty of our Puritan 
forefathers, as though these noble traits came 
into the world with them, forgetting that they 
were the slow growth of ages — ages, too, of 
miserable blundering and misunderstanding, in 
which the world seemed to be almost entirely 
given up to the wicked one. 

But poor Lady de Valery could descry noth- 
ing but vengeful anger in what had befallen her 
family. The curse of the Ericsons was the 
primal cause of all the trouble, she thought, and 
the saints had received some fresh cause of 
displeasure, and saints of such stern virtue as 


138 


Elfreda. 


St. Dunstan, were not likely to pass over a trans- 
gression without punishing it. She would 
hardly have believed, even though an angel 
from heaven had whispered that what she called 
a curse was the richest blessing God could be- 
stow, and perhaps given, too, in answer to the 
prayers of the old monk whom his brethren 
deemed almost unworthy of Christian burial. 
In the later years of his life, when strictly shut 
up from all intercourse with the outer world, 
and from all but a few of the older brethren, 
Leofwine had devoted himself almost entirely 
to praying for his family and their children. 
Like Abraham, his cry had been, “ O that they 
may live before thee ! ” and God had heard and 
answered his prayer ; for, while each had de- 
plored his connection with the recreant monk, 
and his inheritance of the curse of the Eric- 
sons, each had learned to know more fully than 
those by whom they were surrounded, the truth 
so dimly and darkly taught, that God loved the 
world — loved it even to the giving up his Son 
to die for its redemption. 

The Saxon Bible, copied by this same old 
monk, had been in the family ever since it was 
first sent from Crowland minster, and as it 
had been read by each in turn it had been a 
great instrument in the Divine hand of teach- 


The Old yew. 


139 


ing the Ericsons to look beyond the priest of 
Rome, even to the great High-priest himself, 
for the pardon of sin. In various ways — by 
paths that they knew not — God had led them 
about, never giving any great earthly prosperity 
to this Saxon family, but imparting to each 
this pearl of great price — the knowledge of his 
love. 

But to each in turn this knowledge had come 
in apparently the most natural way. There 
had been no miracle wrought; no angel visitant 
sent to whisper the blessed secret that, “ God 
so loved the world, that he gave his only be- 
gotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him 
should not perish, but have everlasting life.” 
Only these simple Saxon franklins had learned, 
one after another, to feel that the absolution 
for sin given by man did not meet their soul’s 
need. The burden of sin had made itself felt 
as too irksome for the lightly uttered words to 
give peace and rest, and so, from priest and 
Church, they had turned to the old Saxon Bible, 
which they treasured as a family heirloom, al- 
though it was the gift of that monk who had 
brought the curse upon their race. 

That a blessing and not a curse haJ i)een 
handed down to them from the humble brother, 
Leofwine, was more than half suspected by sev- 


140 Elfreda. 

eral who^ like Elfreda’s father, chose for their 
battle-cry, Christ and his salvation but none 
had been bold enough to say this. With the 
Normans ruling in the land they were only too 
thankful to be left in peace to till their farm, 
and teach their children in secret the almost 
forgotten art of reading, that they, too, might 
profit by the treasure bequeathed to them ; and 
so they were regarded by their neighbors with 
a mingled feeling of pity, contempt, and fear, 
because the ban ‘of the Church had been pro- 
nounced against them ; and no one had yet 
been found pious enough, or powerful enough, 
to induce the Holy Father at Rome to remove 
the curse of the Ericsons. 

So Lady de Valery returned to her castle- 
home groaning under its terrors, and vainly 
wishing Elfreda had never reached the shores 
of England ; while she, viewing herself in a 
somewhat similar light, as the cause of all 
her friends’ troubles, which she feared would 
never cease while she lived, had almost deter- 
mined to commit self-destruction, hoping by 
this means to save Longbeard, at least, from 
the evil which now seemed his impending fate 
— an ignominious death as the leader of Lon- 
don’s revolt. 

Elfreda was prevented from putting this into 


The Old yew. 


14 1 

execution only by her own sudden arrest and 
imprisonment — not, however, in the Tower, as 
she supposed. It soon transpired that she and 
Longbeard’s wife had been seized by a party of 
friends, who saw this to be the only means of 
rescuing them from the power of the arch- 
bishop. This prelate had at last seized Long- 
beard, and condemned him to death, although 
his wife and family knew nothing of this at 
present ; they had not even heard that he had 
been brought to trial, and fondly hoped still 
that King Richard would remember his prom- 
ise, and interpose on his behalf. To Elfreda 
came the hardest portion of this trial, for it was 
decided that the friends must separate to avoid 
suspicion, and the family of old Nathan, the 
Jew, undertook the dangerous charge of con- 
cealing Elfreda. And so to the care of these 
despised people both cousins were intrusted, 
neither knowing of the other’s danger until 
brought face to face in their friendly jailer s 
house. 


142 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER XL 

ANOTHER CRUSADE. 

W HEN Guy recovered from insensibility 
and the stupor that followed, he found 
himself in a place so utterly unlike any thing 
that he had ever seen in England, that at first 
he thought he must be with King Richard 
again besieging the stronghold of Acre. His 
eye rested on the Oriental surroundings of the 
room. Half way up the wall silken curtains 
and embroidered tapestry concealed the rough 
timbers and stone, while on the table stood a 
branched candlestick of solid silver, bearing 
several tiny lamps, which burned with a pale, 
steady flame, lighting up every corner of the 
little room. There were no chairs or benches, 
but a pile of cushions lay on the opposite side, 
which, with the table and candlestick, and one 
massive chest beside the couch, comprised the 
whole furniture of the place. 

Guy was alone when he awoke, and had time 
to look round and notice each article of furni- 
ture. He then began to look for some signs 
of a window, for as his senses gradually re- 


Another Crusade, 


143 


turned he became conscious of a dull, roaring 
sound, such as he remembered to have heard 
once before in his life, when the Jews incau- 
tiously ventured to enter Westminster Abbey. 
He tried to rise, but the attempt was a failure, 
as well as all his efforts to descry something 
like a window. He was trying to solve the 
puzzle of this strange apartment, so prison-like, 
yet so luxurious, when the arras at the foot of 
his couch was slowly pushed aside, and through 
a low arched door Elfreda entered the room. 

Where am I } Art thou a prisoner, El- 
freda } ” gasped Guy again, trying to raise 
himself. 

Hush, hush ! thou art with friends, my 
cousin,” said Elfreda. 

Guy winced at the word cousin,” and tossed 
himself back on the couch. ‘‘ Where am I } ” 
he again demanded, looking steadfastly at 
Elfreda. 

“ Nay, but thou must be calm, or thy wound 
will bleed afresh. Thou art with friends — this 
is no prison, as thou mayest see,” added Elfreda. 

But there is no window ; and the noise I 
can hear — listen, Elfreda — what is that ? ” 

Instead of listening, the poor girl put her 
fingers in her ears, and turned her head away 
to hide her tears and conceal her emotion. 


144 


Elfreda. 


But Guy would not be put off. Thou must 
and shalt tell me what hath happened,” he said 
excitedly, and, almost beside herself with grief 
and dismay, Elfreda fell on her knees beside 
the couch. 

‘‘ It is the curse,” she gasped ; '' the curse of 
the Ericsons that nothing can remove.” 

Guy looked at her, and then listened to the 
ominous sounds, while Elfreda knelt sobbing, 
until, with a sudden burst of anguish, she buried 
her face among the rushes on the floor, and ex- 
claimed, O, Guy, Guy, I have killed thee, too ! 
old Nathan said thou were not to hear aught of 
this day’s doings, or it would bring back thy 
sickness.” 

'' Nay, nay, Elfreda, thou hast not killed me. 
I heard the noise of this London mob. We are 
in London, I trow,” he added. 

Elfreda nodded. We are in the house of 
old Nathan, the Jew, who brought thee from 
Grantham.” 

In a moment Guy remembered all that had 
happened at the tournament — the falling of Sir 
Hubert and the cry of his friends. Where are 
my mother and father ? ” he asked. 

“ They are safe,” answered Elfreda, and she 
began to tell him all she knew concerning his 
being given into the care of old Nathan, who 


Another Crusade, 


145 


was considered a skillful physician, hoping by 
this means to divert his attention from the loud 
noises that penetrated even to this underground 
apartment. 

Guy listened to her recital, but presently said, 
“ There is a riot, Elfreda, or another murderous 
attack upon the Jews and then he suddenly 
asked, Where is thy kinsman, Longbeard } I 
heard he was in some danger.’' 

But at that question Elfreda’s tears burst out 
afresh, and she exclaimed passionately, “ I would 
that I had died in Jerusalem, or could sacrifice 
my life now, to take this bitter curse away.” 

‘'Then Longbeard hath been brought to tri- 
al ! ” exclaimed Guy. 

“ Nay, I know not rightly what' hath hap- 
pened — only the streets are full of people and 
soldiers, and the church of St. Mary le Bow, 
where Longbeard hath sought sanctuary, hath 
been set on fire by order of the archbishop. 
I would that I had died before I had brought 
this evil upon him,” sobbed Elfreda. 

Guy would fain have comforted her, but what 
could he say — only that he would try to take 
this curse away so soon as he should recover 
from his wound.” 

That a serious relapse should follow upon 
the excitement of this first waking from a long 


146 


Elfreda. 


unconsciousness was only to be expected, and 
it was many weeks before Guy heard the full 
particulars of that cruel day’s work. How the 
Saxons, who had taken refuge in the church 
were forced by the smoke and flames to sur- 
render themselves to the Norman soldiers, and 
how that William Longbeard, already severely 
wounded, was tied to the tail of a horse, and 
dragged to the Tower, and there, without even 
the formality of a trial, instantly executed. Lit- 
tle wonder was it that Elfreda lost her health 
and spirits, believing, as she did, that the secret 
cause of all this misery lay in her return from 
Jerusalem. Now, indeed, she was most anxious 
to leave England and all her friends, lest her 
staying here should bring more trouble upon 
them. 

Old Nathan told Guy this, as he sat upon 
the pile of cushions, still looking pale and thin, 
but trying to put on some pieces of armor. 
The old man shook his head as he saw that 
his patient was as yet too weak to bear their 
weight. 

I feared it was too soon for thee to essay 
coat of mail yet,” he said. ‘‘Thou art safe 
here, and though I say not but the cost of 
hiding thee hath been considerable, still, old 
Nathan is not ungrateful for the kindness 


Another Crusade. 147 

shown to him, though he is but a poor old 
man — very poor, very poor.” 

“ My father will repay thee every zechin I 
have cost thee,” said Guy ; but now let us 
talk about our journey. Thou sayest Elfreda is 
eager to depart from London, and will journey 
with us to France. Whither will he go then 

The old man shook his head. 1 can send 
her to some of my people who will protect her 
for — for a consideration, for they, too, are poor ; 
the Jews are a despoiled people now.” 

‘‘Yes, yes, we know that,” said Guy impa- 
tiently ; “ but thou sayest Elfreda will never 
see me again, and truly she hath kept her word 
for nearly a month ; but thou knowest, good 
Nathan, that no damsel can travel alone, and 
Elfreda hath little store of zechins to reward 
thy extortionate people for their care of her.” 

“ Elfreda hath that which thy mother be- 
stowed upon her when she came to London. 
He who died for the cause of the poor and the 
defense of truth and freedom would not rob 
the orphan of a silver penny, and so it is that 
Elfreda hath store of zechins this day.” 

Guy looked both pleased and disappointed. 
To have provided for his cousin’s wants, even 
though he never saw her face again, would have 
been the greatest joy to him ; still, to hear that 
10 


148 


Elfreda. 


she had store of zechins,” to defend her from 
the cruel stings of poverty, was an intense re- 
lief, and, knowing her anxiety to leave London 
as soon as possible, he urged the Jew to com- 
mence the necessary preparations at once, say- 
ing he should be well enough to set out when- 
ever they were ready. 

During his convalescence Guy had ample 
time to think over his past life, and form some 
plan of action for the future ; but beyond the 
resolution to go to King Richard’s camp, and 
wield his sword in his service, he could think 
of no plan for the future. With the past, how- 
ever, his thouglits were busy enough. Again 
and again did he recall the words of his con- 
fessor on the day of the tournament, when he 
felt so restless and excited ; and when, instead 
of calmly recalling all his past sins, he could 
think only of some trifling circumstances that 
were better forgotten at such a time. The pri- 
or, too, had then told him that the Church could 
not absolve from unconfessed sins. Then he 
thought of Sir Hubert, and of his sudden and 
mysterious death ; and wondered whether or 
not he had been shriven before he entered the 
lists, and if not, was he guilty of sending this 
man before the great Judge with unconfessed 
sins upon his head. 


Another Crusade, 


149 


The thought of this grew at last to be an in- 
tense misery to poor Guy, and he forgot every 
thing that had led to the quarrel and challenge 
— every thing but that Sir Hubert had been 
sent out of the world as little prepared in all 
probability as he himself would have been had 
he fallen. This thought had never troubled 
him before, although Sir Hubert was not the 
first his lance had hurried into eternity. In 
the quiet, solitary hours he spent in this under- 
ground chamber he had ample time to think of 
such subjects in all their bearings. 

How glad he was to set off on his journey at 
last ! He longed for action, to forget all the 
causes for anxiety that now burdened him ; and 
what cared he if his life, like that of so many 
others, fell a sacrifice to this quarrel between 
Richard and Philip of France 1 Since Elfreda 
had forsaken him life was of little value ; and 
so it was with a spirit of reckless despair that 
he at last reached King Richard’s camp, and 
engaged anew in his service. 

Meanwhile Elfreda had eluded the watchful 
eyes of both her cousin and the old Jew. She 
had long ago decided that only with the sacri- 
fice of her life could the dreadful curse be taken 
away : and since the death of Longbeard this 
had seemed to her a positive duty ; she only 


Elfreda. 


ISO 

waited for a fitting opportunity to carry it into 
effect. There rose before her mind sometimes 
the dim recollection of hearing of a great Sacri- 
fice for sin that had been made once for all — for 
the sins of the whole world — but surely her mem- 
ory or her mind must be misleading her, for had 
she not heard again and again that this curse had 
never been removed from her family ? and had 
she not seen proof of this in the calamities that 
had befallen Longbeard and the De Valerys } 
So, using what precaution she could, Elfreda 
stole away from the party of travelers as soon 
as they landed on the coast of France, and, 
returning to the spot where they had left the 
boat, watched for an opportunity to jump into 
the water. Drowning seemed to be the only 
way open to her, so .she crept down to the edge 
of the strand, and watched the waves as they 
beat against the sides of the boats, and won- 
dered how long it would take to drown, and 
whether the dreaded curse would follow her be- 
yond the waves, and hold her fast in that purga- 
tory of which she had heard her confessor speak. 
Elfreda waited a long time, walking up and down, 
watching the restless waves and looking for an 
opportunity to dash herself in, unobserved by 
the fishermen and loiterers, who were stand- 
ing about the beach. At length, however, the 


Another Crusade. 


151 

looked-for opportunity came, and she threw her- 
self in, and was soon struggling with the waves. 

She was soon rather roughly dragged out of 
the water, and carried by two men to a cot- 
tage close by. It was evident they supposed 
she had fallen in by accident ; and the woman 
to whose care she was given bade her thank 
the saints and holy mother for her rescue. 
Seeing that she possessed one or two articles 
of value — a silver bodkin in her hair, and a 
silken kerchief round her neck, the good wom- 
an suggested that these should be presented 
to the sisters of the neighboring convent, and 
Elfreda, too weary and heartsick to resist her 
importunity, consented to their being carried 
thither at once, and also that the sisters should 
be informed of what had happened. The silver 
bodkin and kerchief brought two of the sisters 
to the cottage, and seeing how pale and worn 
poor Elfreda looked, they had her removed to 
the convent infirmary — for they were the only 
hospitals of those days — hoping that when her 
friends came to claim her they would bestow a 
liberal donation upon their rather poor house. 
But no one ever came to the convent gate to 
make inquiries, although Guy and old Nathan 
were busy looking for her in the town close by ; 
so, when she got better, and had to face life once 


152 


Elfreda. 


more, instead of death, as she hoped, she as- 
sumed the habit of a lay sister, thinking herself 
too unholy ever to become a professed nun. 
And so, while Guy helped King Richard to 
carry on a desultory warfare against France, 
Elfreda tried to forget her sorrow in the humble 
duties of a lay sister — nursing the sick and car- 
ing for little children, carrying food to the poor 
in the time of distress, and comforting the widow 
and fatherless when some storm at sea robbed 
them of their earthly stay and protector. 

Thus the years glided on, and King Richard 
died, and his brother John succeeded him as 
king of England ; but there was little rejoicing 
except among his boon companions, and Guy 
preferred to live a wandering life in France 
rather than serve such a detested monarch as 
John. After awhile he took up arms in favor 
of William, Richard’s nephew, and the rightful 
heir to the crown. This war was waged in 
France, and ended in 1200, when Guy joined 
Simon de Montfort, and with him went to hear 
the wonderful preaching friar at Neuilly, near 
Paris. Preaching was not common in those 
days, and so the excited harangues of Toulques, 
this new preaching friar, drew crowds of hearers. 
The theme he discussed was suited well to the 
times. It was neither more nor less than that 


) 









Another Crusade. 


155 


another crusade should be immediately under- 
taken. He had the people’s warrant for urging 
men once more to take the sword from the scab- 
bard, and many needed but little urging to do 
this. 

A fresh impetus was given to this agitation 
a few months later, when Thibaut, lord of 
Champagne, suddenly announced, in the midst 
of a splendid tournament, that he was about to 
lay aside the play of martial life for the duties 
of chivalry. What duty could be so holy, so 
chivalrous, as wresting the sacred tomb from 
the power of the Turks And so Thibaut 
pledged himself and all his vast wealth to aid 
this fourth crusade, of which De Montfort was 
chosen the leader. 

To transport this fresh crusading host to Pal- 
estine the aid of Venice must be sought. No 
other nation could boast of such a fleet as this 
little maritime republic. But Venice was by 
no means disposed to lend her ships on easy 
terms, and contrived to drive a pretty secure 
bargain. The stipulation was made that the 
money promised should be paid into the Vene- 
tian treasury before De Montfort’s troops ern- 
barked. When the time came, however, and 
the crusaders had assembled at Venice, an un- 
foreseen difficulty arose. Count Thibaut had 


Elfreda. 


156 

died, and his heirs refused to hand over his 
wealth, so that the whole sum promised to the 
Venetians was not forthcoming. The doge re- 
fused to let them depart in his ships without an 
equivalent, and, having a war on hand himself, he 
adroitly engaged them to join him in this while 
on their way to the Holy Land, as an equivalent 
for their unpaid debt. 

So with the wary old duke they went to Zara. 
Here they were met by another suppliant for 
their aid. A young Greek prince had been 
driven from Constantinople, and his father 
thrown into prison, while a usurper mounted 
the throne ; and to regain this for his father he 
now besought the aid of these Christian knights. 
To many of the crusaders, however, the heretic 
Greeks were little better than Jews ; for had 
they not refused to bow to the images of the 
blessed saints and the holy virgin ? Neither 
would they accept the authority of the holy 
father at Rome, but chose an archbishop, whom 
they called the patriarch, without even allowing 
the pope any voice in the selection. But Prince 
Alexis, in his distress, was willing to make any 
concession ; and when it was made known to Pope 
Innocent that he had promised to submit the 
Greek Church to his authority and receive the 
laws and ritual of Rome for the government of the 



The Doge Refusing to let the Venetians Depart. 




I 




y 


t 





A7iother Crusade, 


IS9 


Church of Constantinople, he eagerly accepted 
the offer, and bade the Crusaders turn their arms 
against Constantinople before proceeding to 
Palestine. To subdue the Greek Church and 
bring it under the subjection of Rome had been 
the dream of Pope Gregory the Great, and each 
of his successors ; but none had seen the dream 
realized, and the insubordination of the various 
European Churches had given each pope quite 
enough to do. But the opportunity now offered 
of extending her power was too favorable for 
Rome to neglect. 

The doge of Venice was quite willing to join 
in this expedition for the sake of the spoil that 
would fall to his share, and so the prows of the 
Venetian galleys were turned toward the Bos- 
phorus, and the whole crusading army went 
wild with joy at the thought of the treasure that 
would fall into their hands from this fabulously 
rich and splendid city. 


i6o 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER XII. 

GUY DE VALERY’S VOW. 

N ever did more varied hopes and expec- 
tations animate a single army than now 
fired the martial courage of this crusading host 
as the}^ at last anchored their vessels near the 
very gates of Constantinople, and caught a view 
of that wonderful city, so far famed, and yet so 
little known to Europeans. As the morning 
sun gilded the graceful domes of its churches 
and palaces, its library and other public build- 
ings, each of which was a gem of art and a won- 
der in itself, the hearts of many beat high ; but, 
as we have said, their hopes widely differed. 
To men like I)e Montfort, who were deeply and 
blindly devoted to serving the Church and in- 
creasing her power at all costs, the thought of 
imposing the Roman ritual on the recreant 
priests of the Orient, and bringing this gorgeous 
capital under the power of the pope, was the 
grand motive for action. To others, and among 
them the wary old doge of Venice, the prospect 
of the spoil that would fall into their hands — the 
treasure they could carry away from this store- 


Guy de Valery's Vow. , i6i 

house of opulence — nerved them abundantly for 
the fight. 

At first it seemed that the city would fall in- 
to their hands without resistance, for the ener- 
vated Greeks fled at the sight of the invaders ; 
but the famous Veranger guard were not so eas- 
ily beaten, and a series of skirmishes ensued 
whei'ever these appeared. 

Guy fought with the land force led by De 
Montfort himself. In the midst of a fierce en- 
counter near the gates, he, with a handful of 
his men, was cut off from the main body of the 
army and driven to some distance, where a hand 
to hand fight ensued. Most of the crusaders 
were left dead upon the field. Guy, however, 
had only fainted, and when, after some hours, 
he slowly recovered consciousness, it was to 
find himself alone, wounded and helpless, while 
night slowly vailed the turrets of the distant city 
from his sight. To die here in this fashion was 
worse than dying on the field of battle ; so, 
after many fruitless efforts, he at last contrived 
to struggle to his knees. With feeble, fainting 
cry he prayed that the aid of some saint might 
be given him in this hour of extremity. He 
vowed that if his life was spared it should hence- 
forth be devoted to the service of the Church. 
He would enter one of the military orders of 


1 62 


Elfreda. 


monks, and, recalling his early wish on this sub- 
ject, he vowed that he would become a Knight 
Hospitaler if only he were rescued from his 
perilous position. 

Scarcely had the prayer been uttered when a 
dim, shadowy form was seen approaching, and to 
Guy’s excited fancy it was easy to believe that it 
was that of a saint just descended from heaven 
in answer to his prayer. He bowed his head 
among his dead companions, and when at length 
he raised it again it was to see an old man 
standing beside him, carrying a flask of wine 
and a small loaf of bread. 

My son, I give thee this in the name of 
Christ, in whom we both believe, although thou 
art not of our Greek Church,” said the aged 
stranger, and, pouring out a portion of the wine 
in a little cup, he put it to Guy’s lips. Seeing 
he was able to drink so well he gave him halt 
the loaf, and then turned to look at the white, 
still faces of the wounded knight’s companions 
to see if some of them needed the same restor- 
atives. But they were all far beyond the reach 
of earthly needs, and the old man passed on with- 
out another word, leaving Guy in a sort of stupid 
wonder as to wheth r his deliverer was a saint 
or only a mortal man — a miserable monk of this 
heretical Greek Church. Strengthened by the 


The Friendly Greek Monk. 









I 


165 


Guy de Valery 's Vow, 

wine and the bread, Guy contrived to creep 
toward the edge of the field, where he hoped some 
other stragglers from the army might see and ♦ 
help him. In this hope he was not disappointed. 
De Montfort himself, with a party of knights and 
esquires, soon passed that way, and by his orders 
a litter was speedily procured, and Guy was car- 
ried to a place of safety, where his wounds were 
dressed. Here, to his great grief, he had to stay 
until the close of the siege of Constantinople. 

From the quiet spot where he lay he could 
see the lurid flames of the distant city. Nearly 
a third of Constantinople was on fire. Not only 
were matchless works of art, in stone and bronze 
and color, crumbling or melting or burning to 
ashes, but the accumulated work of learned men 
for ages past was also being consumed, and not 
less than ten thousand costly manuscripts per- 
ished in this conflagration. 

Guy heard of this, but it made little impression 
upon him, for he cared as little as his companions 
for the learning that was slowly transforming 
the world. What if the library was burned and 
a few thousand Greeks left homeless and desti- 
tute, so long as the Church was triumphant, 
and her ritual and laws imposed upon these het- 
erodox Christians. The tidings that the Roman 
service had at last been performed in the chief 


Elfreda. 


1 66 

churches seemed to have crowned the expedi- 
tion with success, and the conquerors conven- 
iently ignored the fact that they themselves were 
the only worshipers, and that a howling mob of 
Greeks groaned over this desecration of their 
churches by the Romanists. 

The pope was informed of the triumph of the 
soldiers of the cross, and may have indulged 
some sanguine dreams about this conquest ; but 
they were soon dispelled. Scarcely had the 
Venetian galleys, laden with the spoil of Con- 
stantinople and the small remnant of the cru- 
sading army left the Bosphorus, before every 
vestige of the hated accessories of this Roman 
creed had been torn from the churches, and the 
dethroned patriarch of the Greek Church once 
more restored to his chair of office. To go to 
Palestine with such an insignificant force as 
now remained was out of the question, and so, to 
Guy’s great disappointment, he heard that this 
crusade was to be abandoned, at least for the 
present. 

Having sufficiently recovered from his wounds 
to be able to follow his own will in regard to 
his future plans, Guy resolved upon taking the 
first steps toward the fulfillment of his vow, by 
retiring from the world to the seclusion of a 
monastery before entering as an esquire the 


Guy de Valery 's Vow. 1 67 

holy order of Knights Hospitalers. Hitherto 
he had used only earthly weapons against the 
enemies of the Church, but during his late sick- 
ness the question had been pressed more closely 
home, and he began to see that the evil in him- 
self must be fought against and conquered be- 
fore he could hope to accomplish the greater 
work of removing this curse from his family 
which brought so much misery upon them. 

But to Guy religion seemed scarcely worthy 
the name unless it partook of the character of 
single combat with evil. The shield of faith and 
the sword of the Spirit must be almost as tangi- 
ble as the weapons he had used in the service of 
King Richard. And so to begin this spiritual 
warfare what better course could he adopt than 
to seek admission among the most rigidly regu- 
lated brethren, that he might be helped by their 
example and discipline in his conflict with the 
world, the flesh, and the evil one. After spend- 
ing a short time in Paris with his friend and 
leader, De Montfort, he retired to Fontaines, 
and entered the Cistercian monastery founded 
by an Englishman, who had introduced a much 
more strict rule of discipline than was usual in 
the other monasteries of France. 

At Citeaux the monks had but one meal a 
day, and that only after having risen twelve 


Elfreda. 


i68 

hours from their beds, sung psalms, attended 
several services in the church, and worked in the 
fields. Here St. Bernard, who roused all Eu- 
rope to undertake the second crusade, had spent 
the earlier years of his life, and many stories 
were told among the brethren of his won- 
derful piety and great faith. One of the old 
monks was never weary of telling the story of 
Bernard’s departure with twelve of the brethren 
to found a new monastery in any spot God 
might choose : — 

I was but a lad then,” said he, a novice ; 
but our good abbot, Stephen Harding, granted 
me the great favor of being present in the 
church to witness the departure of our beloved 
brother Bernard. He was very young to be 
sent on such an errand, and feeble, too, from the 
austerities he had practiced — too frail and feeble 
to be sent forth into the wide world, not know- 
ing where food or shelter were to be found ; at 
least so thought many of the brethren as they 
gathered in the church with tearful eyes and 
sorrowful faces. 

The good abbot, Stephen, blessed them after 
prayers, and then, placing a cross in brother 
Bernard’s hands, he bade him go forth and 
plant a colony of Cistercian monks wheresoever 
they were needed. No directions were given 


169 


Guy de Valery'* s Vow. 

or asked. Some of the brethren accompanied 
the travelers to the limit of our own lands, 
while others stayed in the church to pray for 
God’s direction and blessing on the new com- 
munity.” 

‘‘ And did Bernard succeed V* asked Guy. 

The old monk looked up in surprise at the 
question. “ Hast thou never heard of the Ab- 
bot of Clairvaux, who hath performed many 
wonderful miracles in his life-time, besides dis- 
puting with the heretic Abelard, and preaching 
with such eloquence that the haughtiest kings 
and princes were ready to lay down their 
crowns, and the poorest weavers and soldiers 
their lives, to fight the Lord’s battle in the 
Holy Land > ” 

The old man looked rather disdainfully at 
Guy, but pitying his ignorance he afterward 
volunteered to give him a history of the theolog- 
ical dispute between Bernard and Abelard, an 
offer Guy accepted, but did not derive much 
profit from. To mortify his body by fasting 
and long-continued labor — to struggle against 
the world and the evil one, which to him was 
the continued remembrance of his gentle cousin 
Elfreda — was what he longed to accomplish ; 
but the struggle threatened to be a long one, 

for weary months passed, and found him still far 
11 


I/O 


Elfreda. 


from having attained that peace he thought 
must follow upon his victory : a victory over 
self that must be gained before he could even 
enter as an esquire into the holy. order of Hos- 
pitalers. To Guy this was included in his vow, 
and bitter was his disappointment when the 
superior of the monastery one day bade him 
relax some of his self-imposed austerities, which 
were now seriously threatening to undermine 
his health. 

Thou hast come to this holy house to profit 
by the examples of the brethren ; thou must 
learn, therefore, to obey even as they do ; but I 
would say more, though not as a command, but 
as wholesome advice. Thou art not coming to 
spend thy life within these walls, but to do God’s 
service in the world ; thou, therefore, hast the 
more need of thy strength, and it were better 
for thee to depart ere long to do the work of a 
chivalrous knight than to abide here longer than 
is needful for the subduing of the flesh.” 

Guy ^ent from the presence of the superior 
deeply humbled. How great a sinner he must 
be, for although he had spent all these months 
in almost ceaseless devotion, and the practice 
of the greatest severities he could inflict upon 
his body, he was no nearer gaining what he 
sought ; and yet the superior evidently thought 


Guy de Valery's Vow. lyi 

the time he had been there was long enough 
for this purpose. Sometimes, in his dreams, it 
seemed to him that the virgin mother drew near 
to assure him of her forgiveness ; but before the 
vision faded, the face had assumed the well- 
known lineaments of his cousin Elfreda, and 
then there would come back to his mind those 
first words she had spoken to him, “ Christ and 
his salvation.” 

After such a dream as this Guy was sure to 
redouble his austerities, for was it not a tempta- 
tion of Satan to be fought against— this remem- 
brance of his cousin — and yet, try as he would, 
he could not banish her from his thoughts. If 
he only knew where she was — what had become 
of her after she left old Nathan — he thought he 
could succeed better in conquering this persist- 
ent memory of her ; but as it was, his mind was 
more occupied with this now than ever it had 
been before. This, and the death of Sir Hu- 
bert de Grantham, weighed more heavily on 
his conscience than any thing else, although 
his consciousness of other sins was by no 
means feeble. But neither for the real nor 
for the imaginary sins of which he had, or 
thought he had, been guilty, could Guy find any 
remedy — 

“To give his guilty conscience peace,” 


172 


Elfreda. 


Fastings and penances, following the strict- 
est rules of the monks, seemed powerless to lift 
this heavy load of sin from his heart ; and yet 
he was accounted almost a saint by the breth- 
ren. At last he thought that it might be the 
terrible hereditary curse which prevented his 
gaining the desired peace, and this fancy drove 
him from his retirement, and he resolved to en- 
ter the order of Hospitalers without further 
delay. Might it not be that in the fulfillment 
of his vow to the very letter he should find the 
peace he sought in vain elsewhere ? 

There was little difficulty in persuading the 
Grand Master of one of the preceptories near 
Paris to grant admission to one of Guy’s rank 
and renown — for as a crusader and a follower 
of the devoted De Montfort his character was 
established — and arrangements were soon made 
for his formal admission. 

On the day appointed, the knights of all the 
preceptories for some miles round assembled 
in the church, where the Grand Master, in full 
flowing robes of white, sat near the altar, ready 
to receive the aspirant. After prayers had been 
offered, and several psalms sung, Guy drew 
near the steps of the altar to repeat the pre- 
scribed vow : — 

I do promise to Almighty God, to the holy 


Guy de Valery's Vow, 


1/3 

eternal Virgin Mary, the mother of God, and 
St. John the Baptist, to render henceforward, by 
the grace of God, perfect obedience to the supe- 
rior placed over me by the choice of the order, 
be he who he may ; to live without personal 
property ; and to preserve my chastity.” 

The Grand Master then rose. We acknowl- 
edge thee as the servant of the poor and sick, 
and as having consecrated thyself to the de- 
fense of the Catholic Church,” and as he spoke 
he delivered the missal into Guy's hands. 

Bowing his head reverently, he kissed the 
book, saying these words, “ I acknowledge my- 
self as such,” and then carried it to the altar, 
which he also kissed, kneeling. Then he 
brought the missal back and delivered it again 
to the Grand Master, who stood ready to invest 
him with the robes of the order. 

Pointing to the white cross on the front of the 
mantle, he said, “ Dost thou believe, my brother, 
that this is the symbol of that holy cross on 
which the Saviour died for our redemption } ” 

“ Yes, I do verily believe it,” answered Guy. 

^^This is likewise the sign of our noble or- 
der,” went on the Grand Master, “which we com- 
mand thee to wear ; ” and as he spoke he threw 
the mantle around Guy’s shoulder so that the 
cross rested on the left side of his breast. 



J74 


Elfreda. 


Guy then kissed the sacred symbol, and re- 
ceived a kiss from the Grand Master, who said, 
“ Receive this sign in the name of the Holy 
Trinity, of the holy Virgin Mary, and of St. John 
the Baptist, for the increase of the faith, the 
defense of the Christian cause, and the good of 
the poor. We place this cross on thy breast, 
my brother, that thou mayest love it with all 
thine heart ; and may thy right arm ever fight in 
its defense, and for its preservation. Should it 
ever be that in combating against the enemies 
of the faith thou shouldst retreat, desert the 
standard of the cross, and take to flight, thou 
wilt be stripped of this truly holy sign, as hav- 
ing broken the vow thou hast just taken, and 
thou wilt be cut off from our body as a corrupt 
and unsound member.” 

Then, tying the robe around his neck, he said, 
Receive the yoke of the Lord, it is easy and 
light, and thou wilt find rest for thy soul. We 
promise thee nothing but bread and water, a 
simple habit of little worth, but we give thee 
and thy parents and kindred a share in the 
good works performed by our order, and by our 
brethren, both now and hereafter, throughout 
the world.” 

To all this Guy devoutly responded, ‘‘Amen, 
so be it.” 


Guy de Valery 's Vow. 175 

Surely he would now obtain ‘‘rest for his 
soul/' and the curse would be lifted from his 
family at last ; for the superabundant good 
works of this mighty order would be more than 
sufficient to secure this, and had he not just 
received the promise of a share in these “ good 
works ? " These were Guy’s thoughts as he 
received the salutations of the brethren. 


1/6 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE LAY SISTER. 

HE passing years brought little change to 



-L the humble lay sister, Elfreda. She heard 
of the death of King Richard, and the accession 
of John, and she often thought of her cousin, 
wondering whether he still lived. Living or 
dead, it would make little difference to her, she 
often whispered to herself ; and now, far away 
from her friends, they, perhaps, might be happy, 
and she would bear the burden of this curse 


alone. 


The excitement that followed the preaching 
of the fourth crusade reached, with its outer- 
most ripple, this poor little convent on the 
coast, and the sisters gave what help they 
could — their prayers, and a few crowns realized 
by the sale of some needle-work. To Elfreda, 
however, it brought additional work in nursing 
the sick, for a number of knights passed through 
the town who had recently landed from En- 
gland, bringing with them the usual camp fol- 
lowers — chapmen and Jews, mountebanks, 
gleemen, and beggars ; and among this motley 


177 


The Lay Sister. 

crowd sickness had broken out, and so the sis- 
ters of the convent soon had their hands full in 
preparing food and medicine for those who had 
thus been brought to their doors. 

Among these was an old man, dressed in a 
tattered gabardine and soiled yellow cap, from 
whom every body shrank. The poor fellow 
must have perished had not Elfreda heard one 
of her companions speaking of him, and his 
daring audacity in presuming to come among 
Christians. 

“ Is he a Jew, this old man V asked Elfreda; 
and then she added, I will go and see him. I 
am only a poor lay sister, and so I do not mind 
coming into contact with him.” 

The others looked at each other, and then at 
her. Thou art very strange ! More strict in 
thy fasts and penances than a professed nun, 
and taking all the disagreeable work of nursing 
upon thee from choice, and yet thou sayest thou 
hast no hope of ever being a holy saint.” 

‘‘ No, I can never be a saint,” said Elfreda, 
shaking her head sadly, and thinking how very, 
very far off she was, and ever would be, from 
attaining that distinction while she carried the 
burden of this terrible family curse. “No, I 
can never hope to be a saint. I shall be con- 
tent if, through having a share in the prayers 


178 


Elfreda. 


and good works of the holy sisterhood, I es- 
cape purgatory ; so I think I will visit this old 
Jew” 

As she went out of the convent kitchen her 
companions turned to look after her, shaking 
their heads and shrugging their shoulders. 

I wish she was not so dreadfully good,” 
said one. 

‘‘Yes, she does so much that the superior 
thinks we ought to do the same. I wish some- 
thing would happen to take her away from our 
convent, and I know somebody else who would 
be glad to escape Sister Elfreda’s sharp eyes.” 

“ Who is that ? ” asked two or three together. 

But the sister shook her head. “ Nay, nay,” 
she said, “ I may not tell thee that, but we will 
see if there is a chance of ridding ourselves 
of—” 

But here she was suddenly interrupted by 
the entrance of a nun, who in a sharp voice 
commanded her to go on with her work. 

Meanwhile Elfreda had reached the little 
hovel where the old Jew had been laid, and on 
bending over him saw, to her astonishment, 
that it was old Nathan. She started and trem- 
bled as she held a little wine to his lips ; but 
the old man did not recognize her. Indeed, he 
was too ill for some days to notice any thing 


The Lay Sister, 


179 


that was passing around him, and when at last 
he woke up to the reality of life once more, he 
wanted to get up and recommence his journey. 
Although scarcely able to lift his head from the 
straw pillow, he was struggling to raise himself 
to a sitting posture when Elfreda entered. 

Nay, nay, thou art not strong enough to 
get up yet, good Nathan,” said Elfreda, hasten- 
ing forward. 

The old man dropped upon his pillow at the 
sound of her voice and hearing his own name 
spoken. At length, after looking at her in- 
tently while she unpacked the little basket of 
food she had brought, he said with a slow em- 
phasis, '^Now the God of Abraham be praised, 
it is Elfreda, the Saxon orphan ! ” and then 
noticing her dress, he added, “Thou hast en- 
tered this convent, I trow.” 

“ Nay, I am not good enough to be a nun. 
I am only a lay sister, whose work it is to suc- 
cor such as thou,” replied Elfreda. 

The old man looked at her as she gently 
raised him to take the food she had brought. 
“ Did’st thou know I had a goodly store of 
zechins intrusted to me for thy use } ” 

But Elfreda cared little to hear of this. “ I 
need not this money,” she said ; “ but hast 
thou heard of Guy de Valery of late V 


i8o Elfreda. 

Not since he left me at the camp of King 
Richard. How earnest thou here, Elfreda 

I have not left this place since thou and 
Guy brought me hither,” answered Elfreda, 
a faint color stealing into her pale face as she 
recalled the day when she made an attempt to 
drown herself. She never could think of this 
now without bitter pain and self-reproach, for 
she had begun to see that it was a sin to try to 
escape from life instead of bearing its burdens. 

“But could’st thou not leave this convent, 
since thou art only a lay sister ? ” asked old 
Nathan anxiously. 

Elfreda shook her head. “ Nay, I can never 
go back to England,” she said. 

“ Nay, I would not counsel any to go to that 
land while this son of Belial, King John, doth 
rule there. I have left London forever, I trow, 
for the children of my people have found in 
the south of France a goodly land to dwell in 
— a land of vine and fig-trees, a land of plenty 
and liberty, even for the poor Jews. Ah, ’tis 
a goodly land, this Provenge and Languedoc,” 
concluded old Nathan. 

“ And art thou going thither when thou art 
well ” asked Elfreda. 

“ Nay, but I must go there to get well. I am 
an old man, Elfreda, and I need warm sunshine. 


The Lay Sister, 


i8i 

My people, too, have borne my few zechins and 
jewels with them, and I would fain join them as 
speedily as may be.” 

‘‘ But thou canst not take this journey alone, 
weak and ill as thou art,” said Elfreda. 

‘'No, not alone, and Nathan is a poor man ; 
but if thou wouldst journey with me I have 
that in my pouch that will pay for all our wants. 
I could sit upon a horse, and with thee on the 
pillion behind, the old Jew would be safe both 
from enemies and sickness.” 

Elfreda looked at him in open-eyed wonder ; 
but it was evident that Nathan was in earnest, 
whimsical as the idea seemed. Perhaps the old 
man had seen enough to convince him that El- 
freda was not happy in her chosen life, and 
thought that this sunny land of Provenge, more 
like her childhood’s home among the Jewish 
hills, would restore the pretty bloom to her 
rounded cheek, and make her more like the El- 
freda he first saw when he went to ask counsel 
of William Longbeard. 

Elfreda herself scarcely knew what to say to 
the old man’s proposal. She owed him a debt 
of gratitude, not only on her own behalf, but for 
kindnesses he had shown to others of her family, 
and so, scarce daring to refuse his request out- 
right, she promised to consult the superior of 


Elfreda. 


182 

the convent upon the matter, telling her all the 
reasons she had for thinking it her duty to show 
every kindness to old Nathan, although he was 
a Jew. 

Something like a satirical smile parted the 
nun’s lips as she looked at Elfreda, but at last 
she said, “ It were well for thee to depart from 
this house since thou wilt not become a pro- 
fessed sister of our order ; but, nathless, we will 
not forsake thee or leave thee to the misbeliev- 
ing Jews. I will give thee letters to bear to a 
holy house of sisters at St. Gilles, not far from 
Toulouse, and there thou mayest abide.” 

Elfreda hardly knew whether to be glad or 
sorry at this summary dismissal from what had 
been, perhaps, a monotonous round of hard 
work, that yet had brought many moments of 
comfort — almost happiness — when those whom 
she nursed blessed her for her kindness. They 
at least were sorry when they heard of Elfreda’s 
departure, but old Nathan was exceedingly glad, 
and would have begun his journey at once if it 
had been possible. 

At length they were able to set out toward 
the sunny land of liberty,” as old Nathan 
loved to call it. Even priests and monks live 
there who do not scorn poor Jews,” said the 
old man, and he scarcely allowed himself the 


The Lay Sister, 183 

needful. rest, so eager was he to press on and 
reach his destination. 

The cause of this was not far to seek, for the 
old man’s frequent muttcrings of ‘‘jewels,” 
zechins,” “ embroidery,” “ silver crowns,” con- 
vinced Elfreda that from some cause he was 
anxious as to the safety of his wealth which 
friends had carried forward for him. 

At length the soft, warm breeze began to tell 
them they were nearing the beautiful land of 
Provenge — the land of poetry and luxury, where 
troubadour minstrels struck their harps and com- 
posed their lays, where life was one round of 
luxury and pleasure, and nothing higher than 
being crowned in the courts of love by the 
queen of beauty seemed to engage the atten- 
tion of the most aspiring. 

Elfreda was amazed, as she walked through 
the streets of Toulouse, to see Jews as richly 
dressed as any, and with scarcely any distinct- 
ive badge, walking among the other citizens, and 
elbowing their way through the crowd without 
any fear of touching them. In London they 
kept as much as possible to their own quarter 
of the town, and when compelled by business to 
come beyond its boundaries, they took care to 
seek the shelter of a wall, or crept along under 
the projecting eaves, anxious to escape notice, 


Elfreda. 


184 

and careful not to contaminate their fellow-citi- 
zens by coming in contact with them. The con- 
trast in this respect was very remarkable to 
Elfreda. 

But this was not the only difference that she 
noticed between these people of the sunny south 
and the people in whose land she had birth. 
There seemed to be the same lightness and 
insouciance in their manner of worship as in all 
else ; and although the ritual of the Church 
service was the same as that to which she had 
always been accustomed, the words of prayer 
seemed to trip off the lips of the priests, and the 
very chants to have a ring of troubadour min- 
strelsy about them. The troubadours, indeed, 
were never too devout, but loved to ridicule the 
Church and the clergy, high and low being alike 
treated with witty satiie. And these merry and 
sarcastic glees were sung in the streets, nay, 
even openly joined in by the monks and priests 
themselves. 

All this Elfreda saw during the few days she 
stayed with her friends, the Jews, and which 
they explained by saying that the Provencals 
never could be serious about any thing. Life 
itself was only a holiday, to be enjoyed as much 
as possible while it lasted. Then they told 
witty stories of priests and monks forgetting 


The Lay Sister. 


185 


altogether the duties of their sacred office, and 
joining in the contests at the courts of love, 
sometimes running to greater excess of riot 
than the courtiers themselves. Elfreda looked 
shocked. 

^' Surely the holy father should be informed 
of these evil doings,” said she, and the bishop 
be admonished to remove these priests.” 

Nay, nay ; the holy father will not trouble 
himself about those who merely seek to enjoy 
themselves. There are others in this place who 
are far more dangerous to the interests of holy 
Church.” 

More dangerous than light-minded priests ! 
exclaimed Elfreda : “ more wicked than this lux- 
urious court of Count Raymond’s ! ” 

The Jewess who was telling her these stories 
of Provencal life shrugged her shoulders. “ I 
said not that they were wicked ; they are called 
the ^ good men,’ the ^ perfect,’ and some call 
them ' Vaudois,’ because they come from the 
valleys of the Alps.” 

'' But if they are ^ good men ’ surely they can- 
not be the enemies of holy Church !” exclaimed 
Elfreda. 

The Jewess shook her head. I know not 
what their belief may be, only that it is different 

from the teaching of holy Church, and many 
12 


Elfkeda. 


1 86 

citizens have joined themselves to them because 
of their simple, blameless lives, though the 
priests say they are heretics, and must ever 
dwell in the pains of some dread fire after death, 
while a curse rests upon all who belong to them 
here.” 

Elfreda shuddered as she thought how the 
curse had fallen upon her family through the 
monk who had been called a heretic, and she 
resolved to avoid these good people,” for fear 
they should try to teach her their evil ways. 

There was little to- attract Elfreda in the lux-- 
uriously furnished house or the gay inmates. 
She could not forget that they were of an infe- 
rior race — ^‘only Jews” — although they were 
wealthy, and joined in so many of the gay do- 
ings of the city. 

And so, to old Nathan’s great disappointment, 
Elfreda resolved to go to the convent of St. 
Gilles, assured that she should find there the 
peace and rest she could never hope for in this 
busy household. But before she went she bade 
old Nathan send for her if ever he were ill or 
needed her presence. I shall only be a poor 
lay sister, thou knowest, and so it will be my 
duty to tend the sick, and they will let me come 
to thee.” 

May the God of Israel bless thee for all the 


The Lay Sister. 


187 


kindness thou hast shown me, Elfreda ! I am 
an old man, a very old man, and the ways of my 
people here are strange to me ; and though the 
sky is as bright and blue as that which shines 
above our sacred city, I sometimes wish I were 
in London, walking on the banks of the muddy 
little Fleet rather than sitting on this marble 
terrace, with its perfume of roses and orange 
trees, and — ” 

• Nay, nay ; thou wilt soon learn to love this 
place ; it is very beautiful,” said Elfreda. 

But the old man shook his head. “ I shall 
miss thee, miss thee very sorely. And the ze- 
chins, Elfreda — thou knowest I have them still.” 

“ Thou mayest keep them ; I cannot touch 
them. Nay, nay ; ask me not to take them.” 

‘‘ Thou art foolish, child, very foolish, for the 
zechins are good — money is very good,” added 
the old Jew with twinkling eyes ; but he did 
not press her to take the money again. 

Nathan will keep it a little longer,” he said 
softly to himself. He can make it a power in 
this city, and by and by — by and by — ” The 
old man raised his eyes to heaven as he spoke, 
and slowly rose from his seat : O God of 
Abraham and Isaac, thou wilt not always for- 
sake us ! thou wilt restore us to our own land, 
and the wealth we are now getting so slowly, so 


Elfreda. 


1 88 

painfully, from the spoils of these Gentiles, shall 
be dedicated to thee — to the building of thy city 
and thy temple/’ 

It was the first time Elfreda had ever heard 
this secret hope of the Jewish nation openly ex- 
pressed. Nathan had sometimes hinted that his 
nation’s intense love of gain was not the mere 
vulgar love of hoarding — that a secret, sacred 
hope inspired them — a hope they might long 
wait in vain to see accomplished, but which 
was yet sure and certain. 

Now that she heard what this was she could 
only feel an intense pity for the old man, for at 
Jerusalem the Jews were more hated, more de- 
spitefully used, than even in England, and this 
by both Christians and Saracens ; so that the 
world must become almost a new world before 
they could hope to have their claim recognized 
by these contending foes. 

But she would not say a word to check the 
old man’s joy, for she could see, as the light 
breeze lifted his thin white hair, that a tear was 
glistening in his eye, and his face lost the look 
of deep cunning that was so habitual to it, and 
became almost glorified from the feeling of in- 
tense triumphant rapture that shone in it. 

Elfreda saw that the old man had forgotten 
her and all external objects in the contemplation 


The Lay Sister, 


189 


of his people’s restoration, and she quietly crept 
from the room feeling more respect for the Jews 
as a people than she could have thought possi- 
ble. As for old Nathan himself, her heart al- 
most yearned toward him, for were they not 
akin in their sorrows ? He was bearing the 
curse of his people, and she the curse of her 
family. 


Elfreda. 


190 


CHAPTER XIV. 

AT THE CONVENT. 

E lfreda set out the next day for St. 

Gilles. Old Nathan insisted upon send- 
ing an escort with her. This was needful, for, 
as his friends informed him, a nun’s dress was 
little protection from the aggressions of the gay 
multitude, if they happened to be bent on a 
frolic ; and just now every body was holding 
high festival, for the harvest promised to be 
very plentiful. The fields of maize and flax 
looked beautiful in the summer sunshine, while 
every-where roses peeped out from the shelter 
of green leaves, or thrust themselves wantonly 
in people’s faces as they passed the fragrant 
hedges or through the bowery lanes. Truly, it 
was a lovely land— this Languedoc — and little 
wonder was it that its people were so gay and 
light-hearted ; only Elfreda sighed as she said 
this, and felt thankful that there were convents 
for sad-hearted people like herself. 

Her Jewish escort left her as they came 
within sight of the convent of St. Gilles, and 
Elfreda hurried forward to the little postern 


At the Convent. 19 1 

and presented her letter of introduction. The 
lay sister who took it shook her head as Elfreda 
spoke a few words of explanation, and it was 
evident she could not understand what she said ; 
but she opened the gate, and by sign invited her 
to take a seat on the stone bench inside, while 
she carried the letter in to the superior. 

'‘This is France, and yet the people speak 
another language,’’ whispered Elfreda softly to 
herself, for this was not the first time her French 
had not been understood. 

But in a few minutes the sister returned, 
bringing a nun with her who, to Elfreda’s great 
relief, spoke in the language of the North. 
"Thou hast come from Normandy, I trow ” 
she said in a pleasant voice. 

Elfreda rose and bowed. " I am a lay sister, 
not a nun,” she said quickly, fearing lest any 
mistake should be made about this matter. 

" Thy letter will doubtless explain this,” re- 
turned the nun. " Our superior, with most of 
the sisterhood, is out at this time ; but I will 
bid. thee welcome in her name ; and, as thou art 
doubtless hungry, thou mayest follow me to the 
refectory, where we are even now at our even- 
ing meal.” 

Elfreda had learned the humble duty of a lay 
sister too well to venture to reply more than by 


192 


Elfreda. 


an inclination of the head, and, following the 
nun, she was soon ushered into a pleasant, well- 
lighted hall, where some half dozen nuns and 
one or two lay sisters sat at their evening meal, 
while one read aloud from a book. The tables 
were prettily adorned with vases of flowers, and 
there were plates of fruit, and savory smelling 
meats, and tankards of wine. 

Elfreda shut her eyes for a moment, and then 
looked again, feeling sure her senses must have 
deceived her, or that she had by some mistake 
got into the hall of a castle instead of the re- 
fectory of a convent — for any thing more utterly 
unlike what she had been accustomed to could 
not well be imagined. But she soon found her- 
self seated at one of the long tables, and a 
loaded platter of the savory food before her, 
while at the same time she was invited to help 
herself to wine from the tankard placed near. 

After eating a little, Elfreda ventured to look 
round upon her companions, for the reading had 
recommenced, and every body seemed more in- 
tent upon listening to the reader’s voice than 
eating or noticing her. She saw, too, that they 
were drinking water, although they invited her 
to take wine. Then she looked round the room, 
so different from the bare, dim, cold refectory 
she had been accustomed to, and began won- 


At the Convent, 


193 


dering where the superior and the rest of the 
sisterhood could be, and wishing the bell would 
ring for vespers. 

But the reading continued for some time 
longer, and the remnants of the meal were not 
cleared away until the shadows began to deepen, 
and then all, without any distinction, set to work 
at once to remove the platters and tankards ; 
and this was scarcely over before the door 
opened, and another party of nuns appeared. 

'' Now, you dull, perfect people, what have ye 
been doing while we have been out,” asked one, 
speaking in Norman French. 

“Hush! hush!” whispered a nun, pointing 
to Elfreda, and the fresh comers all stared at 
her with looks of silent curiosity for a minute 
or two. But her presence was soon forgotten 
again, for every one seemed bent on hearing 
herself talk ; and there was soon such a Babel 
of tongues as only a party of women can create 
— such a merry clatter as Elfreda had never 
heard in the Northern convent during her whole 
residence there. 

She could not understand all that was said, 
but she comprehended enough to know that 
most of these serge-clad nuns had been to a 
village festival, and some of them had even 
engaged in dancing, and were boasting of it, 


194 


Elfreda. 


too. This boasting was speedily checked by the 
more grave sisters — those who had remained at 
home ; while others laughingly reminded their 
companions that penance day was coming. But 
one of them had pushed her hood aside, and, 
with flushed and heated face, declared she would 
talk about the festival as long as she pleased. 

I care not for penance. Why sfiould I do 
any thing so disagreeable when the sweet mother 
of mercy is ready to forgive all we like to con- 
fess,” she said, with an occasional hiccough that 
provoked a laugh from her companions. 

Sister Annunziata hath been drinking of 
last year s grapes,” whispered one. 

It is only her cup of comfort,” remarked 
another, but no one seemed shocked, or even 
surprised ; only one of those who had remained 
at home persuaded her to let her lead her to her 
cell, and then by degrees the others went off 
in the same direction, until at last Elfreda was 
left with those who had first welcomed her. 

“Wilt thou go to rest now.^” asked the one 
who had first spoken to her; “our lady supe- 
rior cannot see thee to-night.” 

“ Will there be no vespers — no prayers in the 
chapel asked Elfreda, in her amazement. 

A faint color stole into the nun’s face : — 

“ Our house is somewhat disordered through 


At the Convent. 


I9S 


this festival, and therefore there can be no serv- 
ice in our chapel ; but we who are here will com- 
mit ourselves to God s care, and if thou dost 
desire it thou mayest stay.” 

“ Thank you, I shall sorely miss the vespers ; 
but if I may tarry awhile, I would fain join with 
you in prayer to God.” 

The nun bowed, and then spoke a few words 
to her companions, and one of them fetched a 
book, and presently began to read in the Latin 
tongue — the language of the Church in all 
countries. Elfreda sat and listened, but was 
thinking more of the strange scene she had 
witnessed a few minutes before than of what 
was being read, until something in the reader s 
manner caused her to give her undivided atten- 
tion to this legend of the saints, as she sup- 
posed the account to be. But by degrees it 
broke upon her mind that this story was 
strangely familiar, although she could not re- 
member when or where she had heard it before ; 
but, like some half-forgotten strain .of sweet 
melody, it awoke an answering echo in her 
mind, and her heart was thrilled with the sweet 
words of divine comfort. Wholly forgetful of 
where she was, she started as the reader paused, 
and then, in a voice half choked by tears and 
emotion, she said : — 


196 


Elfreda. 


“ May it please thee to read that once more ? 
I have heard it before, but I would fain hear it 
again lest I should forget it.” 

With a look of pleased surprise the reader 
began again, and Elfreda, as she listened and 
drank in the meaning of the words, suddenly 
remembered the old Saxon Bible at her uncle 
Ericson’s, and how she had read there words 
like these: ‘'Let not your heart be troubled.” 
She remembered it all now. In a moment the 
scene rose before her mental vision — the proud 
Lady de Valery coming in at that moment, so 
that the book had to be closed, and until now 
she had never known what the next words were. 
She had read through the previous chapter, as 
the present reader had done, but nothing had 
seemed to rivet her attention like these words, 
“ Let not your heart be troubled ; ” and now 
her mind did not seem able to get beyond the 
next clause, “Ye believe in God, believe also 
in me.” What they might mean she did not 
know. She had discovered from the previous 
reading that it was the Lord Christ who was 
speaking, and she listened intently, thinking 
that some mention of the virgin mother would 
follow, but there was none ; and afterward, 
when the nuns kneeled down to pray, she 
could not but remark again that her name was 


At the Convent, 197 

omitted, as well as that of the saints usually 
invoked. 

It was a strangely simple prayer, not at all 
like those used by the Church, for these nuns 
asked for grace and strength to be faithful. 
This seemed to be the whole burden of it, so far 
as Elfreda could understand, and it puzzled 
her as much as any thing that she had yet seen ; 
for surely these few abiding at home and quiet- 
ly reading such books as they did were more 
faithful to their monastic vows than the light- 
minded sisters who had, in defiance of all rule 
and Church authority, been delighting them- 
selves with the pleasures of the world. And 
yet these were praying for the pardon of sin 
and to be kept faithful, while the others seemed 
to have no fear upon the matter. 

It was certainly a strange, confused, puzzling 
little world — this convent of St. Gilles — and the 
more Elfreda saw of it the less able she seemed 
to understand it. She was summoned to the 
superior’s room the next day, and the sister 
who had admitted her was questioned in a 
sharp, angry voice as to what she knew of her 
coming, and why she had suffered her to enter 
those sacred walls. The nun answered meekly 
and truly enough, giving her every detail she 
had heard from Elfreda, and pointing to the 


198 


Elfreda. 


letter of introduction as she spoke ; but it was 
clear that for some unknown cause she had 
fallen under the lady superiors displeasure, 
for she was instantly commanded to leave the 
room, and a severe penance was imposed upon 
her. 

Elfreda thought she should be instantly dis- 
missed for daring to intrude upon their holy 
house, but, to her surprise, she was told she 
could remain, and was dismissed to the garden, 
that being apparently the easiest mode of dis- 
posing of her. No duties were assigned her, 
and she went down to wander among the brill- 
iant parterres of flowers — for the garden here 
was no mere growing-place for herbs and vege- 
tables, but a luxurious pleasure-ground, with 
arbors and summer-houses, and luxurious seats 
placed in every cool, shady nook. 

Seating herself in one of these, where she 
could watch the groups of nuns wandering up 
and down the green alleys, or sitting in the 
arbors, she gave herself up to thinking over the 
reading, she had heard the previous night, wise- 
ly trying to forget for the present the puzzling 
questions that had arisen in her mind concern- 
ing the lax rule of this convent, and the easy, 
luxurious lives these nuns seemed to live. 

Again she repeated the words, ‘‘Ye believe 


At the Convent. 


199 


in God, believe also in me and then she asked 
herself the question, Do I not believe in the 
Lord Christ ? I know he is the Son of God — 
the Son of the blessed Mary, ever virgin ; that 
she pleads with him on behalf of poor sinners 
who dare not approach his holy presence by 
themselves. I believe all this. Can — ” 

But here her reverie was suddenly inter- 
rupted by the sound of voices close at hand. 
It seemed that two nuns had seated themselves 
on the other side of the myrtle copse, and, 
though neither could see the other, Elfreda could 
hear distinctly every word that was said, for 
they spoke in Norman French for greater se- 
curity against listeners. 

“ Thou sayest that we are suspected of learn- 
ing this strange doctrine taught by the Vau- 
dois or ‘ good men,’ ” said one of the nuns rather 
anxiously. . 

“ I greatly fear it is so, and that our superior 
will punish Sister Ave for teaching us. That 
is why she is condemned to so severe a penance 
this morning, I am sure.” 

'^And yet our rule is so lax that I have heard 
it whispered that the bishop will be informed if 
the scandals concerning this house do not cease. 
Why should our — ” 

‘‘ Nay, but the bishop would be more dis- 


200 


Elfreda. 


pleased if he heard that this doctrine of the 
Vaudois had found entrance here,” replied her 
companion hastily. 

But what were we to do ? I came here be- 
cause — because the world seemed to have noth- 
ing in it worth living for after my Jacques died ; 
and I thought that in the Church I should 
surely find rest and peace : but I found that 
pleasure of some sort or other, varied with a 
little scandalous gossip and a good deal of envy 
and evil-speaking, was all I could hope to find 
here — at least, until Sister Ave and thou taught 
me that these nuns, and even the Church itself, 
had made a great mistake, and that we must go 
to God himself; that the Lord Jesus Christ was 
waiting to bless and help such poor, tired, dis- 
appointed souls as mine, and needed no per- 
suading by his mother or the saints to under- 
take it for us, since he had, out of pure love, 
died to redeem us from our sins.” 

Hush, hush!” said her more prudent com- 
panion, for the speaker had raised her voice in 
utter disregard of the dangerous topic she was 
discussing. 

''Nay, but I cannot hush I I wish every 
sister in this house would come and listen to 
me. I feel as though I were guilty of deceiving 
them when I hear them talking as Sister An- 


At the Convent. 


201 


nnnziata did this morning about penances and 
the pity of the Virgin.” 

Why, what did she say ? ” asked the other, 
anxious to divert her attention from the more 
dangerous subject. 

Some one had been telling her that she had 
drank too much wine last night, and committed 
many sins while half insensible.” 

A story she did not believe, of course.” 

‘‘ Nay, I could not tell whether she believed 
it or not, but she only made light of it, I know ; 
said the sweet mother of mercy would never 
be hard upon a poor nun, since she was herself 
a woman, and that a few extra prayers and can- 
dles placed at her shrine would make up for 
any mistakes she might make. I wish I could 
tell her — dare tell her — that the mistake was 
in supposing that the Virgin could forgive her 
sins, and that these sins, which she thought so 
lightly of, had cost the Lord Christ his life. I 
wish I could tell every nun — every man and 
woman in St. Gilles — this wonderful story of 
Christ’s love to men ! ” 

'‘“Hush! thou must be prudent, or Sister Ave 
and all who are suspected of believing this 
glorious truth will be sent to the cells under 
ground. I have heard of such things being 

done here in this house.” 

13 


202 


Elfreda. 


Well, I would endure imprisonment if that 
would make all the sisters embrace and believe 
this truth/' 

“But it would not — it would only deprive 
those whom we hope to influence of the oppor- 
tunity of learning these things. There is that 
sad-looking stranger whom we each agreed to 
pray for last night. She may be glad to learn 
more of that which seemed to touch her so 
deeply; but how can she if Sister Ave and the 
rest of us are shut up in the dungeons under 
the crypt ? ” 

“ I will try to think of this and be prudent, 
but thou dost not know how hard it is to join 
i 1 services that mean nothing to yon, and see 
others putting their whole hope of salvation in 
the performance of a few penances, or lighting 
a few candles ! ” 

And the warm-hearted girl burst into tears 
as she spoke. 


The Secret Meeting, 


203 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE SECRET MEETING. 

E LFREDA, sitting on the other side of the 
leafy screen, could hear every word spoken 
by the two nuns ; but to describe the mingled 
emotions that possessed her by turns would be 
impossible. She was grieved, shocked, and 
angry at the slighting way in which the inter- 
cession of the Virgin had been spoken of, and 
yet there was a deep joy in the thought that 
sinners might draw near the Lord Christ him- 
self ; and she tried to accustom herself to the 
thought of this, but the force of habit was very 
strong, and she shrank from it at first, as being 
too bold and daring even to be thought of. 
Then she remembered what the nuns had said 
concerning herself, how they had noticed her 
sad looks and prayed for her, and she wished 
she could thank them for this, and ask them to 
read something more from the Scriptures. 

But it did not seem likely that any opportu- 
nity would be afforded for this, for about mid- 
day they were summoned to the church, and 
after the service here they were marched to the 


204 


Elfreda. 


refectory, where they were addressed by the 
superior, who bade them resume their works of 
piety and charity without delay ; herself setting 
the example of industry by visiting each nun’s 
cell, and confiscating all articles not conducive 
to their spiritual advancement. 

The reason for this sudden change of policy 
soon became known. The pope’s legate was 
expected to arrive shortly at Toulouse to in- 
quire into the state of the Church, and to take 
such measures as were deemed needful for put- 
ting down this heresy of the Vaudois, or “ good 
men.” 

Elfreda trembled when she heard the news — 
trembled for the fate of Sister Ave and her com- 
panions who held this dangerous doctrine, and 
she often looked at one or another of these as 
they went about among the other nuns, wonder- 
ing how it was they could look so calm and- 
undisturbed when they might at any hour be 
banished to the dungeons to await the coming 
of the legate, or be brought to trial at once be- 
fore the bishop. 

The secret of this calm peace and trust, 
Elfreda soon discovered, was not the result ot 
indifference or defiance, as she was at first in- 
clined to think, for on entering one of the cor- 
ridors leading to the dormitories one day, she 


The Secret Meetmg. 205 

suddenly came upon Sister Ave, holding in her 
arms the young nun she had heard talking in the 
garden. The poor girl was in tears, and vainly 
trying to suppress them. 

Hush ! hush ! whispered her companion. 
‘‘ ‘ Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in 
God, believe also in me.’ Hast thou forgotten 
those words, little sister, and who spoke them ? ” 

But the young nun had caught sight of El- 
freda. ‘‘ O, Sister Ave, we are discovered — 
betrayed ! ” she gasped. 

Elfreda heard the words and instantly came 
forward. Nay, do not fear me,” she said ; I 
would not betray your secret even if I did not 
desire to learn more concerning this strange, 
good news. Wilt thou not teach me how to 
believe in the Lord Christ } ” she suddenly 
asked. 

Sister Ave looked at her keenly, for she had 
been told that the superior, following the ex- 
ample of the pope himself, had commanded some 
of the sisters to make inquisition among their 
companions, and secretly report to her all they 
could discover likely to prove that heresy was 
among them. 

Elfreda did not know this, but she lifted her 
clear, truthful eyes, and looked so beseechingly 
at Sister Ave that she could not doubt the 


2o6 


Elfreda. 


honesty of her request. Dost thou know that 
the pope hath condemned this faith as heresy.^” 
she asked. 

Elfreda turned pale, and shivered at the sound 
of the dreadful word. Why should it be heresy 
to believe in the Lord Christ, as the Scriptures 
command ? ” she ventured to ask. 

But Sister Ave could only shake her head. 
'' Evil men have made a gain of the ignorant, 
and this they would lose if men learned that 
Christ was waiting to receive them without 
penance and without payment. But I forget. 
The time I may have to talk to thee of these 
things is too precious to be wasted. Since thy 
soul is hungering for this knowledge thou wilt 
not care for the decrees of popes concerning it. 
Meet me in the garden after vespers and I will 
tell thee what I can, for we dare not bring forth 
our book from its hiding-place.” 

Sister Ave had most aptly expressed the feel- 
ing of Elfreda’s soul. She was hungering after 
this knowledge of Christ with an intensity of 
longing that nothing else would satisfy. She had 
been some weeks in the convent now, and took 
her share with the other lay sisters in the more 
humble and arduous duties of the house ; but 
whether she was engaged in these, or in prayer 
before the shrine of the Virgin, the thought, 


The Secret Meeting. 207 

the desire that was ever springing up in her 
heart and mind was, “ O that I could believe in 
the Lord Christ, as the Scriptures command!” 
In vain had she tried to reason down this long- 
ing by whispering the dread word heresy, and 
recalling the fact that it was for the suppres- 
sion of this that the pope’s legate had now come 
to Toulouse. He had even threatened Count 
Raymond with excommunication if he would 
not aid him in putting an end to the false doc- 
trine. Papal decrees were all forgotten, and 
every objection silenced by the soul’s longing 
cry for this knowledge, this rest, that Sister 
Ave and her companions seemed to enjoy. 

And so as the shadows of evening closed 
round the quiet convent garden, Elfreda stole 
away from her companions and went to the 
spot agreed upon with Sister Ave. The faith- 
ful nun was there awaiting her, and bade her 
kneel down ; and then, in a few simple words — 
words that carried Elfreda out of herself and 
seemed to place her at the very feet of the Lord 
himself — she prayed for grace to speak the right 
words to this longing soul, and that Christ might 
be revealed to her as the Saviour from all sin, 
and sorrow, and trouble. 

Rising, she took Elfreda’s hand, and they sat 
down in a little ruined alcove, and there, forget- 


208 


Elfreda. 


ting the lapse of time, she explained to the 
wondering girl the simple Gospel plan of sal- 
vation : how without works, without any mer- 
its of their own to recommend them to God's 
notice, men were invited to come, sin-stricken 
and sorrow-laden as they were, and for each and 
all Christ had the same words of invitation and 
welcome : Come unto me, all ye that labor and 
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take 
my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am 
meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest 
unto your souls ! " 

0 ! I have labored, labored for years, to get 
rid of this load of sin and sorrow : the curse 
that seems to crush me with its weight ! " ex- 
claimed Elfreda, bursting into tears. 

“ And thou art still heavy laden in spite of 
all thy labor ? ” queried Sister Ave, tenderly. 

1 thought the Church would lift this burden 
for me if I only labored long enough, and laid 
up a store of good works.” 

“ Poor child ! thy hope hath been bitterly dis- 
appointed, I know, for the Church could never 
lift one sin from the soul of man. The Lord 
Christ alone can pardon, forgive, and bid thee 
rest." 

‘‘But how am I to come to him.^” burst 
forth Elfreda. “ I would go on pilgrimage, or 


The Secret Meeting, 209 

perform any penance, that I might come to him 
as he bids us.” 

Sister Ave looked down at her silently, but 
with a tender, pitiful look in her eyes, and there 
was a slight tremor in her voice as she asked 
in a whisper, Canst thou see me, Elfreda } ” 

'' I cannot see the look of thy face, but I know 
thou art looking very pitiful,” she said. 

‘‘ Even so doth the Lord look upon thee, 
Elfreda, only more gently, more pityingly than 
I or any human friend can feel. He is as near 
thee, too, as I am, waiting for thee to come to 
him now.” 

Elfreda started slightly at these words. “The 
holy Jesus here,” she whispered, “ and I — ” 

“ Thou art full of sin, thou wouldst say. But 
be not afraid to draw near. Didst thou never 
hear the story of the thief on the cross } ” 

Some vague recollections of having read this 
in the old Saxon Bible flashed across Elfreda’s 
mind, and she said quickly, “ He pardoned the 
thief.” 

“Yes, he freely forgave him all his life-long 
sin when he asked that forgiveness.” 

“ Only asking, only praying — will that be 
enough } ” asked Elfreda with trembling ear- 
nestness ; and scarcely waiting for the nun’s re- 
ply, she fell upon her knees and sobbed forth. 


210 


Elfreda. 


'' O, Lord Jesus, I have been worse than the 
thief on the cross, for I have a heavier curse to 
bear ; but wilt thou forgive me,, and take this 
curse away, because — because thou dost love 
and pity me, and died on the cross to save 
me ? ” 

Having once begun to pour out her heart in 
prayer, Elfreda went on in disjointed sentences, 
her voice broken with sobs, until Sister Ave be- 
gan to tremble for their safety ; for should her 
companions miss her a search might be made, 
and they might both get into trouble through it. 
So, with a gentle whisper that it was time for 
them to go in-doors. Sister Ave rose from her 
seat ; but Elfreda still continued her supplica- 
tions. She rose, however, soon after the nun 
left her and managed to overtake her before she 
entered the house. 

‘‘It is — it is true,’' she whispered. “The 
Lord Jesus doth listen, and he hath helped me. 
O, Sister Ave, I must go back to England and 
tell my aunt, and all whom this curse resteth 
upon, that the Lord Christ will help them to 
bear it.” 

It was hard to check Elfreda’s outburst of 
joy, but Sister Ave was obliged to warn her 
against disclosing this to any one at St. Gilles. 
“ I am suspected, and so are others of the sisters, 




The Secret Meeting. 2ii 

so that thou must be cautious, even in speaking 
to us, lest the superior should suspect thee 
also; but I will tell thee where thou canst 
learn more than I can teach thee concerning 
this good news. Thou art a lay sister, and art 
often in the market-place ; go there to-morrow 
at daybreak, and doubtless thou wilt find a little 
knot of people gathered round a preacher — he 
is a Vaudois pastor, a poor but holy man, who 
seeketh only the salvation of men’s souls — 
pointing them to Christ, who hath died to redeem 
them. Join this little band, and, if thou canst do 
so, make thy way to the preacher afterward and 
tell him of any difficulties thou dost need to 
have explained, and thou mayest tell him Sister 
Ave sent thee.” 

Elfreda had only time to bid her friend a hasty 
farewell, when the door near which they were 
.standing was quickly thrown open and a lay 
sister appeared. 

She looked at Elfreda keenly and said, I 
suppose I must pass over this trick of thine for 
once, but — Well, I did not think thou wouldst 
have planned secret meetings in the garden^ 
though some of the nuns have done it, I know, and 
the scandal hath been all hushed up. But thou 
hadst better not follow in the ways of Sister Ave 
and one or two others I could name, for they have 


/ 


212 ElFREDA. 

listened in the market-place to these Vaudois 
preachers— these ‘good men’ — who are trying 
to upset the Church and turn the world upside 
down.” 

“ Are they ? ” uttered Elfreda mechanically, not 
knowing what else to say ; and, fearing she might 
betray something of her secret, she hastened 
toward the kitchen, where she had some duties 
to perform before retiring to rest. 

The next morning she was at the market- 
place making sundry purchases that were needed, 
and carefully looking for the little crowd of peo- 
ple that would denote where the preacher had 
taken his stand ; but it was only after a careful 
search that she discovered the little gathering, 
for they were screened from general observation 
by a projecting portico, and evidently had no 
wish to court further publicity. 

As Elfreda crept into a vacant corner where 
she could not only hear the preacher, but see his 
pale, earnest face, without being herself noticed, 
he was uttering these words : “ Our enemies 
accuse us of teaching new-fangled notions, 
which no bishop of the Church hath ever pro- 
fessed or taught ; but this, my friends, is false, 
for I will read from this parchment the words of 
Claude, Bishop of Turin, who wrote four hun- 
dred years ago, not long after the famous 


The Seart Meeting. 


213 


Council of Frankfort, where the pope’s legates 
were plainly told that it was unlawful to worship 
images. Claude in this letter saith : — 

'‘^It deserves to be well considered that if 
men ought not to adore and serve the works of 
God’s hands, there is much stronger reason for 
not adoring or serving the works of men’s 
hands, not even with the adoration due to 
those whom it is pretended they represent ; for 
if the image you adore is not God, you ought by 
no means to adore it with the adoration offered 
to saints, who make no pretension to divine hon- 
ors. We ought, then, carefully to bear this in 
mind — that all those who pay divine honors not 
only to visible images, but to any creature, 
whether celestial or terrestrial, spiritual or cor- 
poreal, and who expect from it the salvation 
which comes from God alone, are of that class 
whom the apostle describes as serving the 
creature more than the Creator. Return, blind 
mortals, to your light ! Return to Him who 
‘Gighteth every man tliat cometh into the 
world ! ” This “ Light shineth in darkness, and 
the darkness comprehendeth it not.” Hearken 
every one of you who, not seeing or not regard- 
ing the light, walk in darkness, and know not 
whither you go, because that darkness hath 
blinded your eyes ! Foolish men, who, by going 


214 


Elfreda. 


to Rome, seek the intercession or the apostle, 
hear what St. Augustine saith : Come with me, 
and consider why we love the apostles. Is it 
on account of their human nature ? Is it be- 
cause we believe they were men ? No, certain-' 
ly, for then we should no longer have any thing 
to love, since the man exists no longer ; his 
soul hath quitted his body. But we believe 
that what we love in him still lives. If the be- 
liever must believe God when he promises, how 
much more when he swears, and says, ‘ Though 
Noah, Daniel, and Job were in that town ’ — that 
is to say, if the saints whom you invoke were 
filled with a sanctity, a righteousness, a merit, 
as great as those persons possessed — ‘ they 
should deliver neither son nor daughter ? ' And 
for this purpose he hath declared that no one 
may put confidence in either the merits or 
the intercession of saints, since if he himself 
doth not persevere in the faith, in the righteous- 
ness and truth, in which they persevered, and by 
which they pleased God, he cannot be saved.’' 
Be converted, ye prevaricators, who have with- 
drawn yourselves from the truth, who crucify 
the Son of God afresh, and expose him to open 
shame. God commands one thing, and these 
people do another. God commands to bear the 
cross, not to adore it ; these persons adore it, 


The Secret Meeting. 2 1 5 

while they bear it neither corporeally nor spir- 
itually/ 

Brethren, these are the words of a bishop of 
holy and blameless life. Consider, therefore, 
whether these things which we teach, and the 
pope’s legate hath come hither to suppress, are 
evil, new-fangled, and against the warrant ot 
Scripture and clerkly learning. Consider, I pray 
ye, and choose whom ye will serve and adore — 
the Lord Jesus Christ, or the cross on which he 
died ; the Lord Christ, or his followers, who can 
save neither son nor daughter ; the Lord Christ, 
or the work of men’s hands — graven images 
upon which you can see the workman use his 
tools. Choose this day whom ye will serve.” 


2I6 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


DOMINIC DE GUZMAN. 

HE streets of St. Gilles were filled with a 



-L motley crowd. Scholars from the acad- 
emies, for which the South of France was 
already beginning to grow famous ; sculptors 
and painters, who had just run out of their 
studios ; merchants and shop-keepers, priests 
and monks ; troubadours, trilling their satirical 
songs in the ears of their clerical neighbors, and 
keeping a sharp lookout for any fresh incident 
that might give spice and sparkle to their next 
popular lay ; — these, and many others, thronged 
the avenues to witness the great procession 
which had been ordered by the new papal 
legate, Peter Castelnau. And truly it was a 
great procession — a gorgeous display, in which 
every church in St. Gilles was represented. 

The predecessor of this legate had returned 
to Rome with the information that Count Ray- 
mond and all Languedoc were thoroughly im- 
practicable. The cities were possessed of a lib- 
erty unknown in the north. Their language, 
so rich and flexible, had been abundantly cul- 


Dominic de Gnzman. 217 

tivated in both prose and verse ; and to be a 
man of learning, or a poet of elegance, was to 
gain a footing at once in the court. Priests 
and monks had watched the progress of this 
love of letters with anxiety, and had tried to 
check it ; for it was very evident that a people 
who had advanced to this stage would not long 
listen with implicit faith to the dogmas of the 
Church. Indeed, already there was manifested 
a love of liberty in religion, as well as civil 
matters, which provoked the utmost rancor on 
the part of the ecclesiastical authorities. 

Finding, however, their efforts to check the 
progress of learning vain, these Churchmen 
sought to neutralize its effects, especially in re- 
ligious matters, by fostering by their example 
the love of pleasure — of vicious indulgence, in- 
deed, in some instances. This, as we have seen, 
served its purpose with the great majority — 
the frivolous and the gay. But the more serious 
and devout were only thus the more estranged 
from the Church and its ministers, and they 
gladly turned to the Vaudois, or “poor men,” 
who, making no pretence of peculiar sanctity, 
lived so purely and blamelessly that the hearts 
of those who disapproved of their doctrines 
were won by their blameless lives. 

It was to impress these wanderers from the 
14 


2i8 


Elfreda. 


Church with its power and majesty that the 
present ‘‘progress^’ of the legate and other 
great dignitaries was undertaken. And cer- 
tainly, if pomp and splendor, gorgeous vest- 
ments and sacred relics, could impress with 
religious fervor the hearts of men, these people 
of Languedoc should at once have become 
devout, and forever have forgotten the poor, 
shabby- Vaudois. Doubtless Castelnau, burn- 
ing with anger against these daring innovators, 
cast sidelong but anxious glances at the crowd 
that lined every street ; but he certainly could 
have seen nothing beyond gaping curiosity or 
smiles of ridicule, and perhaps occasionally a 
cold sneer or a satirical song penetrated his 
ears. 

Among those gathered near the gate of St. 
Gilles was a young Spaniard named Dominic 
de Guzman. His grave, earnest soul had been 
greatly shocked during his stay in Languedoc, 
not only by the lightness of the people, but also 
by the progress these new doctrines had made. 
He saw that such a processional display as this 
would prove worse than fruitless, and, full of 
devout plans, he sought an early interview with 
the legate himself. 

'' Men can never be won by such a display 
as this,” he said with emphasis. '' See you not 


Dominic tie Gnzrnmi, 


219 


how you strengthen the cause of these here- 
tics ? They are poor and earnest, and ask 
nothing but food and raiment of their followers. 
Take a lesson from them. Cast away these 
trinkets and gauds, and go barefoot through the 
streets, preaching every-where the power and 
mercy of our blessed Lady, even as I myself 
will do.’’ 

Every body was astonished, but, of course, 
the bishops declined to lay aside their wealth 
and dignity. Only one or two of those who 
heard Dominic were impressed by the holy 
fervor that shone in his earnest face, and prom- 
ised to join him in his novel crusade against 
the Vaudois heretics. At the same time the 
legate exhorted all the bishops to make diligent 
inquisition for those holding these evil doc- 
trines, that they might in due time be handed 
over to the secular power for punishment. He 
also declared that Count Raymond must be 
compelled to deal with his subjects as the pope 
directed, regardless of his own opinions in the 
matter. 

So Dominic and his two or three compan- 
ions, laying aside all their distinctions of rank, 
clothed themselves in shabby and ragged gar- 
ments, bound around their waists by a rope, and 
went barefoot through the streets, preaching in 


220 


Elfreda. 


the market-places wherever a crowd could be 
collected, and begging their meals at the doors 
of the poorer houses. 

These preaching mendicant friars caused far 
more sensation than the recent exhibition of 
churchly pomp and magnificence, and multi- 
tudes listened with rapt attention to Dominic's 
burning words of eloquent appeal and marveled 
greatly. What new thing, thought they, will 
the world see next, now that men in the Church, 
as well as heretics, show themselves anxious to 
save other souls than their own ? It soon 
came to be understood that Dominic would 
found a new brotherhood of monks, and would 
gladly receive any who, instead of devoting 
themselves to a life of contemplation within the 
walls of a monastery, were willing to go through 
the world teaching and preaching, and seeking 
to bring men into the Church. 

It was a great reformation Dominic sought to 
bring about — a great step in advance of all the 
other monastic orders — but he did not preach 
Christ and his salvation. The holiness and 
greatness of the Church, and the merits and 
intercessory work of the Virgin Mary, were the 
subjects of his sermons ; and, to aid his follow- 
ers in their devotions, he invented what was 
called the Rosary of the Most Blessed Virgin.” 


Dominic de Gnzrnan, 


221 


This rosary was a string of beads containing 
fifteen large ones, which were known as “ Pater- 
nosters,” or prayers to God, and one hundred 
and fifty smaller ones, called “ Ave Marias,” or 
prayers to the Virgin. That these soon be- 
came very popular with the easy-going, pleas- 
ure-loving people of Languedoc is easy to im- 
agine, for by just passing these beads through 
their fingers a hundred and sixty-five prayers 
were set down to their account ; and this was 
part of the “good works” that Dominic en- 
joined. 

Meanwhile Elfreda went to listen to the Vau- 
dois preaching, as well as to hear the young 
Spaniard. This latter she was commanded to 
do by the superior, but Dominic’s words made 
little impression upon her vow. 

“ Christ is in my heart, teaching me by his 
Ploly Spirit, so that I am not likely to seek 
Mary to intercede for me with him,” she said 
one day when Sister Ave had thought it need- 
ful to whisper a few words of caution about the 
use of the new rosary which had lately been 
given to the nuns. 

The Church was every-where upholding these 
new preaching friars, and rousing a spirit of per- 
secution against those who believed the simple 
truth of the Gospel instead of the dogmas of 


222 


Elfreda. 


the Church ; and Count Raymond was at last 
threatened that if he showed no more respect 
for the rights of Church property and lands 
than he did for those of his subjects, and did not 
punish and imprison those whom the bishops ac- 
cused of heresy, his country should be invaded 
by a foreign foe, and given over to his enemies 
as a reward for their devotion to the Church. 

Count Raymond smiled at the threat as an 
extravagant one, and politely told the legate 
that in time of war the Church lands could not 
always be exempt from invasion, and that the 
‘'poor men” and Vaudois among his subjects 
should not be imprisoned except for breaking 
the laws of the State, even at the bidding of 
Pope Innocent. 

The legate was angry, and so was the pope ; 
but the people of Toulouse were more indig- 
nant than either at this threatened invasion of 
their liberties, and some foolishly thought that 
if this fanatical legate could only be got rid of, 
the whole business would be settled, and the 
persecution of the Vaudois and “ poor men ” 
would be at an end. In an evil hour some one 
resolved to rid Count Raymond of this enemy, 
and as the legate and a party of priests and at- 
tendants were crossing the river at St. Gilles, 
a lance was aimed at him so surely that it 


Dominic de Guzmafi, 


223 

passed through his body, causing almost instant 
death. 

To describe the consternation that prevailed 
in the town when this foul deed was made 
known would be impossible. The priests and 
monks threatened the utmost vengeance of 
Heaven against the whole land for this murder 
of one whose person was sacred — who was the 
representative of the pope himself— God’s vicar 
and vicegerent. Dominic spoke of it as put- 
ting God to death, and directly accused Count 
Raymond of having instigated the murder ; and 
this tale was carried to Rome, where the pope, 
to serve his own purposes, was only too ready 
to believe it, and consequently issued his edict, 
laying the ban of the Church on all who should 
hold friendly intercourse with the offender or 
his people, and denying to them all the rites, 
ceremonies, and comforts of religion. In addi- 
tion to this he called upon all true Christian 
warriors to bind themselves in a holy crusade 
against Raymond. His appeal closed thus : — 

‘‘ Count Raymond of Toulouse has murdered 
the pope’s legate. Up, defenders of the cross, 
and enter upon a holy crusade against this her- 
esy which threatens to destroy the Church in 
the south of France ! Up, and fight for the de- 
fense of holy mother Church, and the lands and 


224 


Elfreda. 


possessions of the heretics shall be the lawful 
spoil of those who engage in this holy war- 
fare ! ’’ 

This was the cry sent through Europe by 
command of the pope. Bishops and priests 
exhorted their flocks to join this new crusade, 
and there were plenty found who needed little 
urging to engage in a war that promised such 
rich and easily gained spoil as the wealth of 
Languedoc. 

Simon de Montfort was chosen leader of this 
crusade, as he had been of the last, and under 
such a devoted leader many of the archbishops 
in the north of France girded on coats of mail 
beneath the gorgeous robes that were intended 
to proclaim them as the servants of the Prince 
of Peace. 

Count Raymond had smiled when his king- 
dom was laid under an interdict, for he knew 
that it would make little difference to his flour- 
ishing commerce. Many others of his subjects, 
besides the Vaudois, had openly revolted from 
the Church, and those who still remained within 
her pale cared so little for her commands, that 
they would not becloud their commercial pros- 
pects by refusing to buy or sell with their neigh- 
bors. A few priests refused to open the churches 
for divine service, or perform any of the rites 


Dominic de Guzman. 


225 


of the Church ; but there were others who 
were quite as willing to baptize, marry, and bury 
their parishioners, as they were to buy and sell 
in defiance of the pope’s command. 

A few of the Vaudois left Toulouse, and re- 
turned to their native valleys of the Alps ; but 
most of those who had been chosen pastors, 
teachers, and missionaries, remained faithfully 
at their posts, although they knew that com- 
plaints had been made against them. The In- 
quisition, as a special tribunal, had not yet been 
heard of, but the abominable method lately 
adopted, of making secret inquiry for the dis- 
covery of heretics, was its commencement ; and 
who more fitting to carry out its designs — the 
crushing of heresy — than these new mendicant 
friars, who, under the direction of Dominic, 
were now preaching in every town of Langue- 
doc } Many who were unable to preach could 
go from house to house, begging, and watching 
the movements of different individuals. Thus 
were wormed out the secrets of families, and in- 
formation was lodged against many who thought 
themselves unsuspected. 

So the weeks and months glided on un- 
til the legate had been dead a year, and then, 
as the spring began to open, came tidings of 
the new crusade that was gathering its forces 


226 


Elfreda. 


in the north. England, Normandy, and France, 
would each contribute its quota to avenge the 
terrible insult and wrong against the holy father 
by the murder of his messenger and representa- 
tive. The interdict might be laughed at, but 
an invading army was too real and tangible a 
foe to be sneered off his borders, so Count 
Raymond began to make overtures of peace to 
his master at Rome. 

Nothing but the most abject humiliation of 
the refractory count would satisfy Pope Inno- 
cent, and he was summoned to appear at Va- 
lence, and there condemned to walk naked to 
the abbey church, holding a lighted candle, and 
after doing penance at the altar was led to the 
tomb of the murdered legate. 

Such humble submission to the pope would 
surely be sufficient to disarm all his hostility, 
and secure the withdrawal of the troops now 
gathering at Lyons. Count Raymond most 
certainly felt sure of this, or so proud a knight 
would never have submitted to such degrada- 
tion ; and Pope Innocent may have intended to 
turn back the '' crusaders ” from their work of 
destruction. But he had raised a power he was 
unable to control. Priests and monks had not 
only promised escape from purgatory and ple- 
nary indulgence for all sin to those who joined 





Count Raymond’s Presence 


in 


Church 




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\ 


\ 






I 


J 


t 


\ 






\ 




/ 


/ 


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.\ 





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Dominic de Guzmmi, 229 

this war against heresy, but, what was far more 
tempting to most of the soldiers and adventur- 
ers who formed this vast host, the wealth of 
prosperous towns like Beziers and Toulouse 
was promised them as lawful spoil ; and their 
passions of avarice and ambition were more 
easily aroused than quelled. 

It was on June 18, 1209, that Count Ray- 
mond performed his degrading penance in the 
abbey church of Valence, and in less than a 
month Simon de Montfort, with the archbishops 
of Rheims, Sens, and Rouen, had marched their 
horde of semi-barbarians into the rich plains of 
Languedoc. Montpelier soon fell before the 
invading host, and about the end of July Be- 
ziers fell into their hands after a short resist- 
ance. It was an awful scene — a sight to make 
angels weep — these archbishops, with a train of 
priests chanting hymns of praise to God, lead- 
ing savage and bloodthirsty men to slaughter 
their fellow-men because they dared to worship 
God with a purer, simpler worship. 

Was it possible that men like De Montfort, 
who, with all his ambition, was yet a brave, true- 
hearted knight, and not a monster — or others, 
like the gentle, devout, enthusiastic Dominic de 
Guzman — was it possible that they could be- 
lieve they were doing God service when, with 


230 


Elfreda. 


their consent, seven thousand innocent and un- 
armed people who had taken sanctuary in and 
around the church of St. Mary Magdalene in 
this town of Beziers were basely butchered ?\ 
It is said that one of the archbishops ordered 
this massacre, and on being reminded that some 
were Catholics, he coolly said, Kill them all ! 
God will know his own.” Ah, truly, “ precious 
in the sight of the Lord is the death of his 
saints.” Nothing but the utter extermination of 
the heretics and despoiling of Languedoc would 
satisfy the crusaders or their priestly leaders, 
and that they did not fully succeed was by 
no means owing to their clemency, for a more 
unjust and cruel war was never waged against 
any people. While reading this dark page of 
the world’s history we need to keep fast hold of 
our faith, that — 

“ The great world’s altar stairs 
Slope through darkness up to God,” 

or we should be utterly bewildered. But we 
can by its means confidently trust, knowing 
that ‘‘ God is light, and in him is no darkness 
at all.” 


At Beziers. 


231 


CHAPTER XVIL 

AT BEZIERS. 

HE superior of the convent to which 



J- Elfreda belonged was not at all anxious 
for the bishop to be apprized of the heretical 
proclivities of any under her charge, for it might 
be that she herself would be called to account. 
She knew that numerous scandals already afloat 
had caused some questioning as to the wisdom 
of her rule and her fitness for the position. All 
sorts of inquiries had been made and suspicions 
fostered since these heretics had brought their 
nation to the notice of the holy father. And 
now Dominic de Guzman publicly criticized the 
nuns and monks, and in eloquent words exhorted 
them to reform their rule, and live as pure and 
simple lives as those foes of the Church, the 
Vaudois. ‘'Just as though implicit belief in the 
doctrine of the mother Church was not better 
than mere purity of morals,” sighed the lady 
superior. “ These are degenerate days,” and 
as she concluded her reflection she sent for 
Elfreda to come to her private apartment. 

It was not often that a lay sister was admit- 


232 


Elfreda. 


ted to the presence of the superior, and Elfreda 
trembled a little as she walked along the corri- 
dor. She had been warned by Sister Ave the 
day before that she was suspected of heresy, 
and that it might be that she was now to be 
accused of it. But Elfreda need have had little 
fear. The superior hated trouble, and would 
have considered a lay sister too insignificant 
an individual to be formally accused of heresy. 
She had, however, been informed of. her visits 
to the place where the “ poor men and Vaudois 
met for prayer, and so she had decided to get 
rid of her without delay. It was not difficult 
to do this in the case of a lay sister, and so an 
hour later Elfreda was walking along the road 
toward Toulouse, whither she had been abruptly 
transferred by the superior’s orders. 

It grieved Elfreda much to leave St. Gilles 
without a word of farewell to Sister Ave or her 
Christian friends in the town ; but the supe- 
rior’s order had been imperative — she must 
leave without delay. The letter she was to take 
was already written, and with this in her hand 
she was sent out to seek a new home. What 
excuse had been made in it for her abrupt dis- 
missal Elfreda did not know ; but when she pre- 
sented it at the convent at Toulouse she was 
told, rather abruptly, that no lay sisters could 


Beziers, 


233 


be received there, and that she had better return 
to St. Gilles. This, however, Elfreda was not 
disposed to do. Sister Ave had urged her to 
leave while she had the opportunity, but she had 
shrunk from cutting herself off entirely from a 
monastic life ; and her work among the sick 
and poor often gave her an opportunity of point- 
ing the weary, heavy-laden sufferers direct to 
the great burden-bearer — to Him who hath 
“ borne our griefs and carried our sorrows,’’ 
urging them to perform penance or seek the 
aid of the saints. 

Now, however, it seemed that God in his 
providence had thrust her out into the world, 
and she must perforce look elsewhere for shel- 
ter and employment. She knew there were 
poor men ” at Toulouse, and so after leaving 
the convent she made her way to the market 
place, where she hoped to find some of them 
preaching. 

She soon saw a dense crowd gathered around 
the great stone cross in the center, but she well 
knew that Vaudois barbs would not choose such 
a central position as that. As she drew nearer 
she saw that it was the young Spaniard, Domi- 
nic, who was pleading with the crowd, beseeching 
them in earnest and impassioned tones to turn 
away from false heretical teachers, who would 


234 


Elfreda. 


deprive them of all the benefits and comforts 
the Church could afford, and at last rob them 
of heaven itself 

'‘The blessed Mary, ever virgin, hath sent me 
to plead with you, her willful children. The 
gracious queen of heaven is in grief because 
ye neglect her worship and follow these evil 
men. Will ye not listen to her gracious plead- 
ings when she, the ever merciful, bids you re- 
turn to the bosom of the Church } Will ye 
utterly despise her mercy, and bring down the 
wrath of Heaven upon this land V 

So Dominic pleaded, and none who heard him 
could doubt his earnest love for the souls he 
believed to be in danger of destruction. 

Elfreda sighed as she turned away. " O that 
the Church could be reformed, could be taught 
to see that the Lord Christ, and not his mother, 
is the only hope set forth for guilty man ! and 
that a blessing and not a curse follows upon 
casting the soul upon him for salvation ; and 
for a moment a smile flitted over her face, but 
it was as quickly succeeded by another sigh. 
" O, that Guy could learn this glorious truth — 
the truth that has set me free from that dread- 
ful bondage of fear and dread in which I lived 
so long, and which I know hath shadowed all 
his life as well ! 


At Beziers, 


235 

Thus thinking, Elfreda had reached a little, 
quiet nook, where, as she expected, a Vaudois 
pastor had a few devoted listeners gathered 
around him. She mingled with the little com- 
pany, and when the preaching was over, and 
they had dispersed, she spoke to the pastor — 
telling him her circumstances, and asking to be 
directed to a decent home. 

I am not penniless,” she said, for she had 
made up her mind to apply to old Nathan for 
some of that store of zechins he had spoken 
of ; but she did not wish to take up her abode 
with the Jews again, and so thought to secure 
a home first before applying to Nathan for 
money. 

The minister smiled as she explained this to 
him. I see thou knowest we have little of this 
world’s wealth. But we have always a store for 
strangers, and to a share of that thou art wel- 
come, as well as to a shelter beneath our roof,” 
he added. He then proposed to take Elfreda 
at once to the house of a widow in the outskirts 
of the town, where she could stay for the night, 
at least, for the shadows of evening were draw- 
ing near, and the gay capital of Languedoc was 
no safe place for an unprotected woman after 
nightfall. 

So Elfreda agreed to postpone her visit to 
15 


236 


Elfreda. 


old Nathan until the following day, and went 
at once to the widow’s 'house. It was a day 
ever to be remembered in Elfreda’s life — the 
day in which the last tie that bound her to the 
Church of Rome was riven asunder, and the 
quiet, solemn gladness of the evening spent in 
this widow’s house was a fitting close to it. 

As the minister had said, the Vaudois were 
for the most part a poor people, for, though 
protected by the powerful Count Raymond, 
they did not engage in trade either as small 
chapmen or large merchants, but were for the 
most part simple artisans, working industrious- 
ly at their trades, but so scrupulously honest, 
both as to the character of the work done and 
the amount of payment demanded, that they 
could barely supply the wants of their families, 
and so had little to spare for the purchase of 
books. In consequence, a common fund, to 
which all contributed a trifle, had long since 
been formed, and by this means the Scriptures 
— all the New Testament and several of the 
books of the Old — had been purchased, a por- 
tion at a time, and each evening they met at 
some one of their houses, where the school- 
master or pastor would read a chapter from the 
word of God, which would then be discussed 
by all present, and in this way even children — 


At Berziers. 


237 


for many of them came with their parents — 
gained an intimate knowledge of the word of 
God, which was their surest protection against 
being drawn aside from the faith by such spe- 
cious arguments as those of Dominic and his 
mendicant friars. 

This evening the meeting was to be held at 
the house of Elfreda's host, and when they 
were all assembled — mothers and fathers bring- 
ing their children — it seemed like some happy, 
social, family gathering ; and more like heaven 
than any convent she had ever seen, Elfreda 
thought. 

The next day she went to see her Jewish 
friends, and there heard, to her great disap- 
pointment, that old Nathan had removed from 
Toulouse to Beziers. There she resolved to 
follow him, intending to return to Toulouse as 
soon as her business with him was settled. 

On reaching old Nathan’s house she was told 
that he was very ill — too ill to leave his room 
or receive strangers — and it was only after beg- 
ging his servant very earnestly to tell the old 
man that Elfreda, from England, wished to see 
him, that any one would consent to let him 
know she had come. As soon as her message 
was delivered, however, she was summoned to 
the sick man’s room, and old Nathan’s first 


238 


Elfreda. 


words prevented her from thinking of returning 
to Toulouse. 

The Lord God of my fathers hath verily 
heard my prayer, and sent thee to comfort the 
soul of his servant ere he die. Elfreda, thou 
wilt not leave me again — thou wilt not leave 
the old man among strangers, for dear as a 
daughter hast thou been to me since the time 
when 'thou didst show favor and kindness to 
the Jew.’’ 

The rapid, earnest utterance of the old man 
had almost exhausted him, and he fell back upon 
the pile of cushions upon which he was reclin- 
ing as though each labored breath he drew 
would be the last. Elfreda was surprised to 
see such a change in him. I am very sorry,” 
she said, looking pityingly at the sallow, with- 
ered face, which seemed the more ghastly be- 
cause of its contrast with the crimson satin 
cushion on which his head rested. 

'' I am a poor old man — very poor, very 
poor,” he panted, slowly opening his eyes and 
looking round at the richly-embroidered arras, 
gold candlesticks, and jeweled cups that stood 
near him. The room was furnished with ori- 
ental splendor and magnificence, and Elfreda 
wondered what old Nathan could mean, for he 
did not speak in his usual whining tone of 


At Beziers. 239 

cringing servility, but as though he was corn- 
communing with himself 

“ Can I do any thing for thee ? ” Elfreda 
asked after a pause. 

'' Thou wilt stay, Elfreda — thou wilt stay with 
me,” gasped the old man. 

“Yes, I will stay,” said Elfreda. 

“Now the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Is- 
rael bless thee for that word, my daughter. 
He will bless Elfreda,” said the old man em- 
phatically. 

“ He hath blessed me,” responded Elfreda 
quietly. 

Old Nathan looked up in her face. 

“ Thou art changed, Elfreda — thou dost look 
like one at rest, instead of being storm-tossed 
and beaten down by this world’s trials. Is 
there a haven of rest in this world 

“Yes, I have been storm-tossed, but I have 
found the rest and peace the Church promised 
but could not give. I have found it in Christ 
Jesus the Lord.” 

“ The Nazarene again — always the Church or 
the Nazarene,” muttered old Nathan. But in a 
minute or two he turned again to Elfreda and 
said gently, “Sit down, and tell me about this 
haven of rest. I had thought I would be happy 
— would find peace and joy — in the possession 


240 


Elfreda. 


of gold and silver and precious stones ; but I 
have gathered these to me in vain, for this day 
I feel poor — I am a poor, lonely, loveless old 
man, with none to care whether I live or die. 
Yes, I am very poor,” he added. 

“ But God can enrich thee,” said Elfreda. 
‘‘ He can give thee what thy gold cannot buy — 
the knowledge and love of himself” 

“But thy God is not my God,” said old 
Nathan. 

“ Nay, but he is,’’ replied Elfreda. “/ believe 
in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel — be- 
lieve that he loved me so much that he gave his 
Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, to die for me, that 
my sins might be pardoned, that all my foolish, 
proud, willful thoughts and deeds might be for- 
given, and the guilt of them washed away in the 
precious blood of Christ.” 

“ But we are his chosen people, and believe 
not in this Nazarene,” said old Nathan. 

“ But ye believe that, chosen as ye are, ye 
have sinned } ” said Elfreda. 

“ Sinned ! Aye, most grievously have we 
and our fathers sinned against the law of our 
God. Therefore are we banished from our 
goodly land, and compelled to bear the heavy 
curse of his wrath.” 

“ I had to bear such a curse once, or thought 


At Beziers. 


241 


I had, but I have learned now that the Lord 
Christ hath taken it away ; that he bore the 
curse of our sins, and that there remaineth 
naught but blessing for list if we will only be- 
lieve in his love and accept it.” 

“ Nay, nay, but my Scripture saith the curse 
of the fathers shall be visited on the children,” 
said Nathan. * 

And the Scripture also saith that the Lord 
delighteth in mercy,” replied Elfreda. “ Shall 
I tell thee of the curse of the Ericsons — the 
curse that hath shadowed all my life, and that 
of Guy de Valery, too } ” 

The old man was almost as pleased as a child 
at the prospect of hearing a story, and eagerly 
assented. So, in as few words as possible, that 
she might not weary him, Elfreda told the 
story of the heretic monk of Crowland, and 
how the Church had held its terrible ban over 
the heads of her family, doubtless as a warning 
against future heresy ; and how she had lately 
discovered that, after all, there was no curse, 
but the evil things which she had supposed 
were its results had come in the most natural 
order ; and/ how the knowledge this old monk 
had gained in the Vaudois valley was the same 
knowledge of God and his love to men which 
she had lately learned. 


242 


Elfreda. 


‘‘ And Guy de Valery, hath he learned the 
secret of this peace?” asked Nathan. 

Elfreda shook her head, and turned aside to 
hide her emotion. I would to God I could 
find him to tell him of this,” she said. 

Peradventure thou wilt find him if thou 
dost return to England ; but tarry awhile, my 
daughter, until I anf laid in the grave, and then 
thou shalt go back a rich lady, for thy zechins 
have multiplied in my hands, and I will restore 
them fourfold.” 

Elfreda did not need this to induce her to 
stay with old Nathan. She could see that the 
old man had greatly changed, and she felt it to 
be her duty to devote herself to him for the few 
remaining weeks or months of his life. It 
might be that, in spite of his prejudice against 
the Christian faith, she might yet lead him to 
look to the Lord Jesus for pardon and salva- 
tion ; and this hope made her forget the tedium 
of a sick-room, and the disgrace, as many would 
deem it, of associating with Jews. 

And so the weeks and months glided on, 
until at last the tidings came of the crusade 
that the Church had organized against heresy ; 
even now it was marching toward Languedoc. . 

“ If thy God delighted in loving and blessing, 
this Church, that professeth to follow him, 


At Beziers. 


243 


glorieth in hating and cursing. The curse of 
Languedoc for her heresy will be no imaginary 
curse, like that of thy family, Elfreda, for the 
bloodhounds of war are let loose to consume 
this heresy ; and may God defend his own when 
Simon de Montfort fighteth against them ! ” 

The old Jew roused himself once more to 
secure his wealth from falling into the hands 
of the invaders, and then begged Elfreda to 
leave him while yet there was time for her to 
escape to England. 

But this she positively refused to do. She 
would stay with him to the end, and this she 
did ; but the gates of Beziers were closed the 
very day old Nathan died. 


244 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 

T he house where old Nathan lived was near 
the middle of the town, and Elfreda heard 
only the distant roar of the contending armies ; 
but the numerous parties of fugitives who took 
refuge in the great church of St. Mary Magda- 
lene soon convinced the most hopeful that the 
besiegers were rapidly gaining advantage after 
advantage, and that the town would soon be in 
the hands of De Montfort’s host. 

Old Nathan had expected some of his friends 
from Toulouse to attend his funeral, but no one 
had been able to come. The Jews of Beziers, 
however, had seen that the last rites were per- 
formed according to their kinsman’s wish ; and 
then one of them, pitying Elfreda’s helpless con- 
dition, and knowing that she would receive* no 
sympathy from their Catholic neighbors, went 
to the castle, and begged a refuge for her there 
under the protection of Count Raymond’s sis- 
ter, who was well known to favor the Vaudois, 
or “ poor men,” if indeed she had not entirely 
embraced their faith. 


An Unexpected Meeting, 245 

So when the crowds of refugees going to the 
Church of St. Mary became more frequent, El- 
freda resolved to avail herself of the refuge 
offered her in the castle, and, to her great joy, 
she found there several of the Vandois pastors, 
besides many noble ladies who had refused to 
leave their homes and seek safety in flight while 
there were so many poor and helpless still in 
town whom they could perhaps protect. 

Here the noise of the catapults and other en- 
gines of war could be plainly heard, as well as 
the shrieks of the wounded and the groans of 
the dying ; and many a poor wounded creature 
was brought in to have his wounds tended by 
gentler hands than those of the rough soldiery 
outside. 

Nor was De Montfort unmindful of the 
wounded among his men. A party of Knights 
Hospitalers were frequently to be seen moving 
about among the wounded, soothing their last 
moments, or doing what they could to relieve 
their sufferings. It sometimes happened that 
one of these, on his mission of mercy, would 
come close up to the castle gates — passing 
through the terrible breaches in the wall almost 
unheeded, for the white cross on their mantles 
insured them against the arrows of the archers 
or the thrusts of the javelin men, and it was 


246 


Elfreda. 


rarely that one of these soldier monks was 
wounded. 

It was the fifth day of the siege, the day after 
Elfreda had reached the castle, when one of the 
ladies, peeping through a loop-hole of the castlci 
to note the progress of the enemy saw a Knight 
Hospitaler struck down by an arrow, and lying 
unconscious, and apparently unnoticed, by either 
friend or foe. 

^^’Tis a right brave knight, and a merciful, 
albeit he is one of our enemies,” said the Lady 
of Beziers, and she directed a party of her re- 
tainers to go out by the secret subterranean 
door and bring the knight into the castle. This 
was speedily done, and Elfreda, having had great 
experience in nursing and dressing of wounds, 
was directed to have all things in readiness for 
him in a little alcove near the lady’s bower. 
Ladies, and guests, and bower maidens were all 
pressed into the service of nursing, and there 
were few idle hands in the castle now that could 
be made useful. 

For herself, Elfreda had little hope of escape 
from death now, but it was a great relief to be 
in the castle, under the protection of the brave 
count and his retainers ; here they might hope 
to die without being exposed to the brutality 
of the rough soldiery, and this seemed an 


An Unexpected Meeting, ^ 247 

unspeakable mercy. But the prospect of death 
had little terror for Elfreda now. There was 
no fearful purgatory darkening with its grim 
shadow all the future life. She knew that death 
would be but the beginning of life to her, and 
yet — yet she often sighed as she thought of the 
far off English castle and her Cousin Guy. If 
she might but see him once more, and tell him 
they had been making a terrible mistake all this 
time ; that God had not cursed, but blessed, the 
old monk, Leofwine, and that he had given them 
a blessing, not a curse, in the gift of that old 
Saxon Bible — the family heir-loom ! But, alas ! 
what hope was there now of her ever seeing 
England, or Guy either. She was indulging in 
a reverie like this when summoned to attend 
the wounded Knight Hospitaler, and in mak- 
ing the needful arrangements for his reception 
every thing else was forgotten. 

Elfreda scarcely glanced at the face of the 
soldier while assisting to remove his mantle and 
armor, and it was not until his wound was 
dressed, and the leech had withdrawn to attend 
another of his patients, that Elfreda had time to 
look at the pale countenance before her. She 
started and trembled, but still with only a half 
recognition, until the wounded man slowly opened 
his eyes on momentarily regaining conscious- 


248 


Elfreda. 


ness, and then in an instant she knew him — 
knew, in spite of the aged, worn appearance, it 
was no other than her Cousin Guy. It seemed, 
however, that there was little likelihood of his 
ever recognizing her, or being able to listen 
to the glad tidings she longed to impart, for day 
after day passed and he made no visible prog- 
ress toward recovery. The town capitulated, 
and, of course, the castle surrendered ; but Guy 
still lay in semi-unconsciousness, faithfully at- 
tended by Elfreda. 

When the castle was taken, and free exit was 
allowed to all who chose to depart, several tried 
to persuade Elfreda to leave the knight to the 
care of the victors, telling her the castle was 
no place for a woman now ; but Elfreda would 
not leave her cousin’s side, and De Montfort 
was only too glad that a follower who was so 
faithful and devout a Catholic as De Valery 
should have the benefit of her care. So the 
lady’s bower remained as sacred a spot as it 
had been when the Lady of Beziers had occu- 
pied it. 

Of the progress of the terrible crusade El- 
freda heard but little ; but it went mercilessly 
on. Town after town submitted to the con- 
querors ; and all through that awful summer, 
while the sun was smiling upon the earth, color- 


An Unexpected Meeting. 249 

ing its flowers and ripening its fruits, hordes of 
savage soldiery were marching through beauti- 
ful Languedoc, trampling down the maize, burn- 
ing farm-houses, rooting up vineyards, and kill- 
ing all who fell into their hands. Sometimes a 
whisper of these atrocities would reach Elfreda, 
but days often passed when she would hear 
nothing but the tramp of armed men as they 
passed her door, or exchanged a few words with 
the attendant who brought her food. 

At length, however, this dreary monotony 
was broken, and Elfreda’s fainting heart was 
cheered by her patient asking, in a feeble but 
natural voice, what the day was. For a moment 
Elfreda had forgotten, but she answered, as 
calmly and quickly as she could, '' Wednesday.” 

“ Nay, but which saint is it sacred to } ” asked 
the knight. 

Elfreda shook her head. She had forgotten 
to keep account of the saint’s days lately, and 
she frankly confessed it. 

, ^‘Then thou art one of these miserable Vau- 
dois whom holy Church hath seen good to chas- 
tise,” said the knight, crossing himself as a de- 
fense against heretic spells. 

Again Elfreda bowed, for she was afraid to 
trust her voice. 

Guy looked at her curiously, but only sighed, 


250 


Elfreda. 


as, after the scrutiny, he turned his head away, 
and Elfreda went to prepare him some nourish- 
ing food. When she brought it, and prepared 
to feed him, as usual, he quietly submitted to all 
she chose to do, watching her with eager, curi- 
ous eyes. He did not speak until the meal was 
concluded, and then he said : — 

Doth the noble Count de Montfort, or any 
other in this castle, know thou art an accursed 
heretic ? ” 

Again Elfreda shook her head. 

“ Then I will not betray thy secret, although 
it may be that it is a deadly sin to conceal such 
foul heresy as thine.” 

Elfreda looked troubled, and scarcely knew 
how to repress the words that came rushing to 
her lips ; but she knew that the least agitation 
might endanger her cousin’s life, and for his 
sake she carefully concealed every sign of emo- 
tion as she carried away the platter, and silver 
cup from which he had drank a little wine. 

‘^So like, so like her, and yet so hardened a 
heretic,’^ murmured Guy, half aloud, as Elfreda 
withdrew. 

What would he have said could he have 
followed her, and seen how she threw herself 
on the floor, burying her face in a cushion that 
her sobs might not be heard ; or could he have 


An Uuexptxted Meeting. 251 

seen her afterward when, somewhat calmed, she 
slowly rose and fell on her knees to pour out her 
heart before God in prayer on his behalf. But 
Guy knew nothing of all this, and so let his 
thoughts wander back to that time when he lay 
sick at the Jew’s house in London, until he fell 
into a refreshing sleep. 

When he awoke it was to notice that in the 
room where he lay there was neither cross nor 
crucifix — nothing to which he could turn as he 
prayed ; and it seemed to him that without 
these external helps his prayer could never rise 
even to the merciful virgin mother or the 
saints, and it was a great blessing he wished 
to ask — one that only God himself could grant. 
He did not believe that any saint was powerful 
enough to turn the heart of a heretic Vaudois ; 
and it was for the conversion of his kind and 
tender nurse, who so strongly reminded him of 
his Cousin Elfreda, that he prayed, although he 
feared it would be quite unavailing of itself. 

By and by Elfreda came in again, bringing 
some medicine, and looking so calm and placid 
that Guy was instinctively reminded of the 
sweet, calm face of the Madonna he had seen 
in some of the churches. Try as he would, he 
could not keep his eyes from watching her, 

until at last he startled her out of her calmness 
16 


252 


Elfreda. 


and composure by exclaiming, “ It is — it is 
Elfreda ! ” 

She dropped the cup she was holding, and in 
her agitation stooped and kissed fondly the pale 
brow of the knight, all her pent-up affection, 
breaking loose at a single bound; and he, for- 
getting for the moment his monkish vows and 
the confession Elfreda had recently made, knew 
only that his dearly-loved cousin was beside him, 
and he held her in his arms in a close embrace. 

Elfreda was the first to recover her compos- 
ure, and, gently disengaging herself, she said, 
‘'Now, Guy, I must leave thee, and thou must 
go to sleep again.” 

A faint smile parted the patient’s lips. “ Art 
thou sure we are not in old Nathan’s house in 
London,” he said, “ and thou prescribing thy 
usual remedy } ” 

“ Nay, we are not in London ; but thou must 
follow my commands even as thou didst there 
and, to make sure that there was no further 
agitation, Elfreda instantly withdrew. But Guy 
could not sleep, and as soon as Elfreda had 
gone he recollected — ^what he had forgotten in 
the transport of meeting her once more — that 
she was one of the heretic Vaudois whom he 
had hoped and prayed to see rooted out of the 
earth. 


An Unexpected Meeting, 253 

A groan of almost mortal agony at this 
thought, and the fear that the curse of the old 
monk of Crowland might repeat itself in El- 
freda’s ears, broke from his lips, and brought 
his cousin again to his side to inquire as to the 
cause. 

'' Ah, ’tis an old wound; Elfreda, but one that 
no mortal power can heal,” groaned the knight. 

Is it the old curse ? ” whispered Elfreda, 
that which hath shadowed all my life, and 
which prompted my attempt to destroy myself 
in the hope of removing it from my friends ? ” 

''Didst thou attempt self-destruction ” hur- 
riedly asked Guy. 

Elfreda bowed. "When I left thee and old 
Nathan it was to drown myself in the sea we 
had just crossed,” she said. "But God in his 
mercy rescued me, and now he hath shown me 
that the curse I could not bear hath already 
been borne by another, and completely re- 
moved.” 

" Our family curse — the curse of the Eric- 
sons — gone ! lifted by the Church, and I never 
knew it ! ” gasped Guy. 

" Nay, the Church hath no power to take 
away the curse of sin— the Lord Jesus Christ 
only can do that,” answered Elfreda boldly, yet 
trembling with anxiety. 



254 Elfreda. 

Guy looked into her earnest face. '' Go on,” 
he said ; '' tell me how thou didst learn that 
this dreadful curse hath been lifted from our 
family.” 

'' Nay, I may not tell thee all the story of 
my life since I left thee, for thou art weak and 
feeble ; yet I will tell it to thee some day, and 
then thou wilt learn more fully of my meaning ; 
but now I will give thee a few words to think 
of that have been of great comfort to me : ‘ For 
Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just 
for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.’” 

Guy loojced up as if for some explanation of 
these words, and seeing this, Elfreda went on : 

‘‘ Dost thou not see that if Christ hath suf- 
fered once for the sins of men, it were an insult 
to say that we, too, will bear their sins — as 
though his suffering or holiness were not suffi- 
cient without us.^ If that old monk sinned we 
cannot, God doth not call us to bear the pun- 
ishment of his sin, for Christ hath already borne 
it for him and for us also, and so there can be 
no curse.” 

But the Church, Elfreda — the Church saith 
the curse is not removed.” 

Elfreda hardly knew how to meet this ques- 
tion now •without deeply agitating her cousin, 
for she knew his strong devotion to the Church, 


An Unexpected Meeting, 255 

and how could she rudely tell him, what had cost 
her weeks of agony in the discovery, that the 
Church was wrong in many things which she 
taught — false to the high trust committed to 
her care. So she said gently : — 

Guy, dost thou know upon what the Church 
foundeth her teaching and practice ? ” 

Yes, upon the teaching of the holy apostles,” 
replied Guy. 

That which is contained in the word of God, 
which we call the Scriptures,” said Elfreda. 

'‘Yes, the Scriptures, and the teaching of 
saints who lived after the apostles,” replied 
Guy. 

" But since they lived in later times, and had 
themselves to learn from the writings of the 
apostles, it were better for us also to go back to 
these writings, and learn what God himself 
would say to us by his first witnesses.” 

" It were better, perhaps,” assented Guy ; 
"but since the Church hath decreed that the 
holy Scriptures should not be read by the 
unlearned — ” 

" But why should she so order if all her teach- 
ing hath the warranty of God’s word } That I 
may not weary thee with talking, however,” she 
added, " I will ask thee to read this Scripture 
of the Gospel history for thyself ; and then 


256 


Elfreda. 


we will some other time talk further upon this 
matter.” 

Saying this Elfreda darted away, and before 
Guy could refuse or expostulate, a beautiful 
manuscript of the Gospels was placed in his 
hands by his beloved cousin. 


The Wounded Knight. 


257 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE WOUNDED KNIGHT. 

UY had no intention of reading the manu- 



script Elfreda brought him, for he knew 
the Scriptures had been forbidden by the 
Church, and he stood in too much awe of her 
power to break her laws lightly. Besides, he 
had a grave suspicion that reading the Script- 
ures savored of that heresy which he had vowed 
and endeavored to root out of Languedoc, and 
so for awhile the parchment roll was laid aside. 
But as he grew stronger the desire for some- 
thing to break the dreary monotony of his lone- 
ly hours overcame his scruples, and Elfreda, 
who had purposely kept away from him as much 
as possible, saw at last, to her great joy, that her 
cousin had begun the perusal of her precious 
book. She avoided making any allusion to this, 
however, and Guy carefully concealed it when- 
ever De Montfort or any of his friends visited 


him. 


The weeks slipped on, and news came that 
Count Raymond had gone in person to Rome, 
hoping to move the pope's clemency, and induce 


258 


Elfreda. 


him to command the withdrawal of De Mont- 
fort’s host. How the unfortunate count fared 
in his mission Elfreda could not hear ; she only 
knew that the peaceful, helpless Vaudois, whose 
sole crime was that they dared to profess a 
purer faith than the Church taught, were driven 
from their homes, and hunted from town to 
town, on to the very fastnesses of the Alps and 
Apennines, and that on every road their bones 
lay bleaching. 

All this Elfreda heard ; and Guy heard it, too, 
but it failed to awaken any thrill of triumph in 
his heart now, for he also was beginning to learn 
by slow degrees — yet none the less surely — that 
the Church was not the pure fountain of wisdom, 
truth, and love he had hitherto believed her 
to be. 

He determined to question Elfreda as to the 
mode of life and worship practiced by these 
‘'poor men,” Vaudois, or Albigenses, as they 
were variously called. If she were one of them 
she had surely been admitted to all their secret 
rites of worship, he reasoned, however horrible 
they might be, and she would know the secret 
of their lives, too, whether they did practice such 
gross immorality as was laid to their charge. 

The fact that Elfreda had embraced their 
faith made him doubt some of the tales he had 


The Wounded Knight, 259 

heard concerning them, for surely one so gentle 
and pure-minded as his cousin would shrink 
with horror from the vile orgies such as he be- 
lieved they indulged in. It was with no great 
surprise, therefore, that he listened to her ac- 
count of the holy, blameless lives led by these 
people, or that the horrible part of their worship 
consisted only in their rejection of all images, 
pictures, or signs — of even the cross — and that 
prayer, reading the Scriptures, and expounding 
them, formed the chief part of their worship. 
Elfreda sometimes felt anxious to learn what 
was passing in her cousin’s mind, but it was 
some time before he spoke. At length he 
startled her with the question : Elfreda, hast 
thou ever heard whether God will forgive un- 
confessed sin } ” 

Elfreda looked puzzled at the question. 

Nay, but it is our bounden duty to confess 
our sins to God, though I hold it not needful to 
confess to a priest,” she said. 

But hast thou never felt, when thou didst 
go to confession, that thy memory would not 
recall all those things that ought to be con- 
fessed ; and, after the confessor had given his 
absolution and benediction, and, perhaps, as 
thou wert rising from thy knees, or going from 
his presence, some great lapse of duty that ought 


26 o 


Elfreda. 


to have been confessed hath suddenly recurred 
to thy mind, and thou hast gone away burdened 
in conscience, and feeling that the word of bless- 
ing were but a mockery ? 

“ It hath sometimes troubled me, as thou say- 
est, but not of late ; for I can go to God at any 
time and confess my sins without fear of weary- 
ing him. Besides, Christ died to pardon all my 
sins, those which I forget as well as those which 
I confess. It is not confession, but Christ that 
taketh away our sins, and knowing this, how 
can I be afraid if I believe in him ? ” 

“ This faith of thine would certainly be good 
for warriors such as I — for men who, while they 
fear that each confession may be their last, are 
at the same time tortured with the thought that 
they have forgotten some sin which should 
have been remembered : some sin, perhaps, so 
great that the pardon of all else will avail noth- 
ing while it remains unforgiven, O, Elfreda, it 
is a terrible thing to live in such fear as this ! ” 
But it is not the will of God that any should 
live in such fear. He hath called us to freedom 
and joy, not to bondage and fear. We are his 
children, dearly and tenderly beloved, and he 
would have us believe in this love — believing 
that he so loved us as to give his Son to die for 
us, the just for the unjust, that he might bring 


The Wounded Knight. 261 

us to God.” No saint could do this, or God 
would not have given up his Son to perform the 
work ; therefore, to seek the help of saints or 
angels is a vain and foolish thing.” 

“ Thou art in very truth a heretic, my Elfre- 
da,” said Guy, smiling faintly; but he did not 
shudder when he pronounced the word “ here- 
tic,” as he once did. 

“ Nay, nay, I am no heretic, Guy. I have 
but learned to love the Lord Jesus Christ a 
little in return for his great love to me, and I 
would that thou, too — ” 

'' Thou wouldst fain have a Knight Hospital- 
er break his vows and turn heretic, too,” inter- 
rupted Guy ; but there was a touch of grave 
earnestness in his tone, and Elfreda forebore to 
make any further remark. 

That the Spirit of God was at work in Guy’s 
heart Elfreda fully believed, and so she was con- 
tent to wait, and watch, and pray, leaving to God 
the time when her cousin should arrive at a full 
knowledge of these truths. They could not be 
received all at once, she knew. There was much 
to be unlearned first. Many a hard battle must 
be fought, and many a cherished prejudice 
given up ; and hardest of all, perhaps, every 
good work as a ground of merit must be laid 
asid| before the simple, humbling message of 


262 


Elfreda. 


the Gospel could be accepted in all its fullness. 
But she could trust that He who had taught ^ 
her, and led her into this full gospel liberty, ' 
would likewise teach and lead Guy by the 
help of the Scriptures he was now diligently 
studying. 

The cousins had both fondly hoped that no 
suspicions had been entertained of Elfreda 
being other than an orthodox Catholic, but in 
this they were deceived. The attendant who 
came daily to the bower to bring her food, and 
all that was requsite for her patient, had soon 
noticed the absence of all those objects of adora- 
tion so dear to a devout follower of the Church. 
This absence was not only noticeable in the furni- 
ture and arrangements of the apartment, but also 
in her own person. She wore neither cross, reli- 
quary, nor rosary, and surely one who had heard 
the eloquent Dominic preach ought to avail her- 
self of the last blessed invention. So reasoned 
her wary attendant ; but he did not communi- 
cate his suspicions to any one else, or speak to 
her upon this matter ; he kept up a silent, 
constant, stealthy watch upon every movement 
of both nurse and patient. What he saw going 
on from day to day soon convinced him that 
Elfreda was a heretic, and he had no doubt this 
wounded knight held the same detestably doc- 


TJie Wounded Knight. 263 

trines, else why should she be so constant in 
her attendance upon him. 

So as soon as Guy began to improve in health 
he too was watched, whenever the man had an 
opportunity. He soon noticed the mysterious 
parchment roll, hastily put out of sight when he 
appeared, and noted, too, that the patient never 
asked for a cross or crucifix to be hung up in 
his room. 

Now if he could only make sure that these 
two were heretics, and give information against 
them that would be at once conclusive, it might 
be of great service in bringing him under the 
notice of De Montfort or the archbishop of 
Rouen. Orders had been given by the bishops 
that any one suspecting others of holding or 
teaching doctrines contrary to those commanded 
by the Church should at once give information 
against them, and so the attendant was not long 
in informing some of his superiors of a conver- 
sation he had overheard between this strange 
nurse and her patient, in which she had said 
that, ^‘To seek the aid of the saints, as the 
Church commanded, was a vain and foolish 
thing,” and that the knight had listened to this 
without reproving her. 

At first the man’s words were disregarded, 
for De Valery was too earnest and devout a 


264 


Elfreda. 


Catholic to be thought capable of such heresy ; 
but to make sure of this beyond a doubt, another 
was set to watch, and report all that he heard or 
saw. He had not to practice his inquisitorial 
work long before he gained ample proof that 
De Valery, as well as his nurse, had embraced 
the detestable heresy of the Vaudois ; and the 
very next day Guy was visited by two of his 
brother knights, who questioned and cross- 
questioned him at some length, and finally told 
him of the accusation that had been brought 
against him. 

He did not deny the truth of the charge. I 
am learning many things I had not thought to 
find in this word of God given to us in the 
Scriptures,” he said. 

“ Then thou hast broken thy vows, and in- 
stead of fighting against the enemies of the 
cross and holy Church, in the day of battle, 
hast deserted the sacred standard, and become 
a corrupt and unsound member of our holy 
brotherhood.” 

And having said this the two knight-monks 
departed, and Guy hastily called Elfreda to his 
side and told her what had happened. 

Thou must escape from the castle, if pos- 
sible, to-night, for I shall doubtless be removed 
from thy care without delay,” said Guy. ‘‘ Elfre- 


The Wounded Knight, 


265 


daj we shall never meet again on this side the 
grave ; but in heaven, where God himself will be 
our teacher and guide, all doubts and mysteries 
will be made clear. I can believe this, my El- 
freda, that Christ hath died to redeem me, hath 
pardoned all my sins, and the rest I shall learn 
on the other side of death’s dark stream. Fare- 
well, dear, dear Elfreda — dearer to-day than ever 
before. The Church separates us now, but God 
will unite us by and by. Make thy way to En- 
gland as soon as thou canst, and tell my poor 
sorrow-stricken mother the good news thou hast 
taught me. And now take my mantle and wrap 
it about thee as soon as it is dark, and before 
thou canst be made prisoner, escape by the 
secret passage thou hast told me of” 

But Elfreda shook her head. “ I will never 
leave thee, Guy,” she said. If they take thee 
to the dungeons under the castle, I may be able 
to help thee if I am at hand.” 

“ Nay, my Elfreda,” said Guy, thou must 
grant this, my last request. I shall be tried on 
this charge of heresy, and never suffered to 
leave the castle alive ; but let me have the 
comfort of knowing thou art safe.” 

Elfreda might still have persisted in her re- 
fusal, but that at this moment the door was 
suddenly opened and two guards appeared, who 


266 


Elfreda. 


announced that they were to remove the knight 
at once to another part of the castle. 

Elfreda turned pale. I obey thee now/' 
she said, casting one more anxious look at her 
cousin’s worn face, and the next minute she 
had quietly removed the long dark cloak, 
and having secured the door of the bower 
against all intruders, she waited until the guard 
had departed with their prisoner. Then, before 
they could return for her, she had thrown back 
the secret sliding panel that opened upon a 
small steep stair-way built in the thickness of 
the wall. Guided by her hands, she groped her 
way down through the darkness, hoping to be 
able to find the secret door of egress from the 
castle. She was almost unconscious of the 
flight of time, at first, in her eagerness to reach 
the outer air, but groped on and on, cutting her 
hands against the rough, rocky sides of the 
stair-ways and passages, which seemed to her 
interminable. 

She must have been thus walking, groping, 
and crawling for several hours before any out- 
let could be found ; and when she at length 
stumbled against a door that slowly yielded to 
her effort to open it, and gave her a sight of the 
outer world, she was startled to find that the 
shadows of evening had fallen, and she had only 


The Wounded Knight. 267 

the light of the glittering stars to guide her on 
her way. 

The door, which had swung a little back, ap- 
peared like an entrance to the half-ruinous hovel 
that stood near, and no one would have sur- 
mised that it led to the stately castle Elfreda 
had recently left. It was a piece of waste 
ground on which she stood, tangled and over- 
grown with weeds, while the castle was far 
away in the distance, and the town too. 

Elfreda had only time to notice these things 
when she heard a footstep approaching, and she 
at once concealed herself behind some of the 
overgrown bushes. Presently another footstep 
was heard, and then another ; until Elfreda, 
peeping from her hiding-place, saw about a 
dozen men and women gathered around the 
first comer. 

“ Now, my friends,” said a quiet, manly voice, 
^Sve will have a few verses from the word of 
life.” And then, slowly and distinctly, Elfreda 
heard the words of St. Paul in his Epistle to 
the Ephesians given to this poor hunted band 
of Christians — their only comfort and solace 
now. 

There was no light, and at first Elfreda was 
puzzled to know how the pastor could read in 

the darkness ; but she soon discovered, from 
17 


268 


Elfreda. 


some words that fell from the bystanders’ lips, 
that these words of the Scriptures were being 
repeated from memory — that the man had 
learned them by heart. 

Elfreda would not disturb the little meeting 
until they had concluded their devotions ; but 
she had no fear now, for she felt herself among 
friends, and when they rose from their knees, 
and the pastor was bidding each good-night, 
Elfreda stepped softly from her hiding-place, 
startling the little company by her sudden and 
strange appearance. Her face and hands were 
cut and bleeding, and her clothes hung in rags 
about her. Several feared she was a spy, set 
to watch them, in accordance with the new in- 
quisitorial order of the pope and bishops, but 
Elfreda soon reassured them. 

'' I, too, am in peril for the faith of Christ, my 
Saviour,” she said, and then, as one or two ven- 
tured near, she told the pastor of her flight from 
the castle of Beziers, and her anxiety concern- 
ing her cousin’s fate. They could only shake 
their heads when she spoke of De Montfort’s 
mercy, for they knew what that meant ; but one 
of the women volunteered to take her to her 
home, and attend to her immediate wants, and 
this offer Elfreda gladly accepted, 


Outlawed by the Church. 


269 


CHAPTER XX. 

OUTLAWED BY THE CHURCH. 

E LFREDA could not be persuaded to leave 
Beziers. Day after day and week after 
week she hovered about the castle, reckless of 
her own danger, in hope of hearing from some 
passing soldier something that might throw 
light upon her cousin’s fate. But the darkness 
of the grave seemed to have closed round Guy ; 
and at last, as the short winter began again to 
give way to the genial spring, hope died out of 
Elfreda s heart, and she resolved to wait only 
until the season was sufficiently advanced to 
allow of traveling with less discomfort before 
setting out for England. 

One day as she lingered near the castle, gaz- 
ing at its lofty towers, and thinking of all that 
she had seen and heard within its walls, she 
was startled by seeing a worn, bent figure ap- 
proaching. Her sympathies were at once en- 
listed. Some poor pastor had crept back to 
the scene of his former labors, she thought, 
while she watched his feeble, tottering foot- 
steps ; but something in his manner as he drew 


270 


Elfreda. 


nearer caused her heart to beat quicker. It 
must be — yes, it was — her Cousin Guy, and she 
rushed forward to meet him. 

With a warning gesture Guy gently repulsed 
her, fearing that they might yet be within sight 
of the castle gates. So Elfreda, with a quick- 
ened step and heightened color, passed on. 
She had learned all the turns and windings of 
the tortuous 'streets by this time, and so, turn- 
ing in an apparently opposite direction to that 
taken by Guy, she yet contrived to meet him 
before he had gone far along the road. 

“ This is, indeed, an unspeakable mercy,'’ said 
Guy as Elfreda once more joined him. '‘They 
have turned me out, as a disgraced and degraded 
knight, to die like a dog in the streets of this 
strange town ; but God hath once more sent 
his angel to deliver me from death and as he 
spoke he took Elfreda’s hand and clasped it in 
his. " Mine, mine at last, Elfreda,” he whis- 
pered ; '' the Church hath set me free from 
m*y vows and cast me out as an accursed man, 
but—” 

"Nay, nay, say no more at this time,” said 
Elfreda. " I must take thee to the Jew who so 
kindly befriended me after old Nathan’s death ; 
he hath in charge certain jewels and costly 
cups of mine and in exchange for these he will 


Outlawed by the Church. 271 

willingly give us shelter, and all we may need 
to take us back to England.” 

Guy was in no fit condition to travel at pres- 
ent ; but the Jew, seeing a chance of driving a 
good bargain, readily agreed to shelter them, 
and supply all that was possible to restore his 
enfeebled health. 

When Guy was comfortably settled at the 
Jew’s house, Elfreda went, at his request, to 
summon the pastor of the Vaudois Church, who 
still lingered in the neighborhood ministering 
to the wants of a few of his scattered flock. 
She knew her cousin desired to join the perse- 
cuted Church, although he intended to return to 
England so soon, but she was surprised at the 
haste and eagerness he now manifested to have 
this done at once. 

Great caution had to be exercised in bringing 
the pastor to the Jew’s residence, not only on 
their own account, but on that of their host 
also ; for now there were many who spent their 
whole time in watching to detect heresy and 
heretics. But the good man came after night- 
fall without any to interrupt him, and, after a 
long conversation with Guy, Elfreda was sent 
for to take part in the conference. She was 
hardly prepared for the eager question Guy put 
to her as she entered. 


2/2 


Elfreda. 


Wilt thou be my wife ? wilt thou suffer this 
holy minister of God’s truth to join our hands 
to-night, even as our hearts have long been 
united ? ” 

Elfreda looked from her cousin to the pastor. 

But — but — we are of kin,” she faltered. 

I have hidden nothing concerning our kin- 
ship, Elfreda, and this good man saith he know- 
eth nothing in God’s law to forbid our wedding. 
If we were powerful nobles the pope would 
readily grant us a dispensation to marry — pro- 
vided always that we could pay him a sufficient 
bribe, although the Church doth forbid it.” 

'' I have little • care for the voice of the 
Church,” said Elfreda, but thy vows, Guy, 
and thy friends in England — ” 

As for my vows,” interrupted Guy ; the 
Church hath annulled them, and, being taken 
in ignorance, I gladly ratify the sentence of 
degradation lately passed upon me ; and as for 
my friends, thou knowest I have had no friend 
like thyself since thou gavest me as my watch- 
word and battle-cry, ‘ Christ and his salvation.’ 
I have been a long time learning the meaning 
of those words, Elfreda, but Christ hath set me 
free at last — free from the guilt and bondage of 
my own sin, and'free, too, from the bondage the 
Church in her tyranny would impose upon us.” 


Outlawed by the ChureJi, 273 

Elfreda yielded, at last, to the earnest plead- 
ings of her cousin, and there, in the presence of 
the Jew’s family, she was married by the old 
pastor of the Vaiidois Church. Her host would 
fain have had some little feasting and rejoicing 
on this occasion, but Elfreda begged that the 
marriage might be kept as secret as possible. 
Guy’s health, too, had to be considered ; but 
now that she was able to devote herself unre- 
mittingly to her care of him he gained strength 
quite rapidly. 

It was a peaceful, happy month that these 
storm-tossed hearts passed beneath the old 
Jew’s r.oof at Beziers, and it was almost with 
a feeling of reluctance that they bade adieu to 
their kind host, and set out on their journey 
toward the north. 

They could travel with less fear now, for Guy 
had wonderfully improved in health and spirits, 
and the jewels Elfreda had sold enabled them 
to maintain the appearance of wealthy people. 
None would be likely to recognize Guy in his 
merchant’s dress as the disgraced and enfeebled 
Knight Hospitaler, who had been turned out of 
the castle to die in the streets. Elfreda, too, 
seemed suddenly to have grown young again ; 
but she gladly turned her back upon the coun- 
try where God’s saints were so cruelly perse- 


Elfreda. 


274 

cuted, hoping that in England they might be 
permitted to worship him in peace. 

They often beguiled the hours of travel by 
talking of their distant but beloved native 
land. Not so fair or sunny as bright Langue- 
doc, she could yet boast of green fields and 
mighty forests unblighted by such a terrible 
crusade as that now waging against these south- 
ern provinces of France ; and though her people 
were less polite and polished, there was a stern 
truthfulness and uprightness in them which 
these light-hearted people could not even com- 
prehend. Pleasure seemed the whole end and 
aim of life to the one ; duty was the watchword 
of the other. 

Hours and days thus flew by, until at last 
they came once more within sight of the white 
cliffs of Dover. Scarcely, however, had they 
set foot on shore before they were met with the 
news that King John had offended the pope by 
refusing to receive Archbishop Langton, whom 
he had appointed to the see of Canterbury, and 
for this offense the whole kingdom was laid 
under an interdict. Though the sun was shin- 
ing brightly a dreadful gloom seemed to be 
brooding over every thing — a silent, nameless 
something that seemed to strike a chill to the 
heart, bowed every head, and checked every joy. 


Outlawed by the Church. 275 

No church bell rang now for matins or ves- 
pers, for the churches were all closed. Sundays 
and holy days were like all the rest, and often 
as they passed along the roads they would come 
upon a dead body thrown into a ditch without 
any funeral rites, for none dare speak when the 
Church commanded silence. 

Sometimes a priest, more merciful than his 
brethren, would stealthily baptize an infant in 
the church porch, or marry a couple who had 
waited month after month in the vain hope that 
the interdict would be mercifully removed by 
the holy father at Rome. But there seemed 
little prospect of this at present, for King John 
had seized the Church lands, and was using 
them for his own purposes ; while most of the 
bishops had fled from the country to take refuge 
in France or Rome. 

It was with a feeling of heart-sickness and 
sorrow that Guy and his wife at length reached 
London, where it was arranged that Elfreda 
should stay for a short time ; while Guy went to 
Bourne in the disguise of a cheapman, to learn, 
if possible, whether any news of himself had 
reached his friends of late. There was a double 
need for caution, for if it was discovered that 
the degraded Knight Hospitaler still lived, he 
might be seized by one of the preceptories that 


276 


Elfreda. 


were established in England, and tried again 
for his heresy, and for breaking his vows by mar- 
rying ; and if it were known whom he had mar- 
ried, the Church would excommunicate them 
both. It was, of course, their great desire to 
live as quietly as possible, so as not to excite 
any attention among their neighbors or friends 
as to their remissness in observing the duties 
imposed by the Church. Whether this could 
be safely attempted in the neighborhood of 
Guy’s old home was a problem he was anxious 
to solve as soon as he could. 

Elfreda had brought with her the legal docu- 
ments left by old Nathan, establishing her right 
to her property, the bulk of which he had, with 
prudent forethought, transferred to some of his 
brethren in London. They labored, therefore, 
under no inconvenience from want of means. 
Elfreda was possessed of wealth sufficient for 
the wants of both as long as they lived. Still, 
it was thought more prudent that he should go 
to Bourne with a pack of merchandise on his 
shoulders ; for it would be easy to gain admis- 
sion to the castle as a cheapman, and it would 
give him an excuse to ask for all the family un- 
der the plea of selling his wares. 

It was the third day after leaving London 
that Guy, with his pack on his shoulder, sat 


Ontlaived by the Church. 277 

down to rest, in a thick hazel copse which he 
knew was on the borders of a wood reported to 
be infested by the most daring band of outlaws 
in England. But he had little fear of them 
now, for he was not the wealthy knight of 
Bourne, but the humble packman of London, 
and these outlaws would rather give to the poor 
than rob them. So when a sudden shout which 
he knew to be the outlaws’ cry — St. George 
for merrie England” — came, borne upon the 
summer breeze, and quickly followed by the 
sound of crackling boughs and hasty footsteps, 
Guy did not move, but calmly waited for the 
coming of the robbers. 

He had not to wait long. Two or three broke 
through the bushes, and stood before him the 
next minute. 

Ho, sir cheapman ! whither away } ” asked 
one, eying Guy curiously. 

'' Canst thou tell me whether the Castle of 
Bourne be in this neighborhood } ” asked Guy, 
preparing to unfasten his pack, that the robbers 
might see its contents, and thus be assured 
that he trusted them. In this way, he thought, 
he might learn what changes had taken place 
in his old home during his absence. 

These men, shut out from the world, were as 
eager to look at the knives and drinking horns. 


2/8 


Elfreda. 


gilt bodkins, and pieces of embroidered silk, as 
children to look at toys ; and while they were 
examining the different articles, passing them 
from hand to hand, Guy was questioning one 
and another upon the business of the neigh- 
borhood and the inhabitants of the castle, which 
he knew lay just beyond these woods. 

'‘The late baron. Sir Valence de Valery, was 
a true knight to Saxon and Norman alike ; but 
Sir Gilbert, who now reigns as lord of Bourne, 
is more occupied with public matters, though 
he favors not King John in his oppressive 
rule." 

“Then Sir Valence is dead. When did he 
die } ” asked the cheapman, with great difficulty 
restraining his emotion. 

“ Nay, I cannot tell thee that, but ’tis two 
or three summers I know," replied the outlaw, 
turning over the contents of the pack at his 
pleasure. 

“ And the lady, his wife — doth she still live 
at the castle ? " asked Guy. 

“ Yes ; Sir Gilbert is not married, and so his 
mother still rules among her bower maidens 
there, although she hath seldom been seen be- 
yond the castle garden since news came of the 
death of Sir Guy, her oldest and best beloved 


son. 


Outlawed by the Church, 279 

‘‘Where did he die?” asked Guy. 

“Nay, sir packman, thou canst know but lit- 
tle of the men of the merry greenwood if thou 
dost count them able to remember the names 
of all the places travelers tell of. We can bend 
a bow, and strike the mark at a greater dis- 
tance than any other men in England, but we 
know little of travelers' arts beyond filling our 
pouches with their gold. 'Twas beyond seas, 
of course, and I have heard it whispered that 
the young knight was outlawed by holy Church 
for some offense, which I deem was unwise, 
since the Church hath all the power in this 
world, and the next too, or our blessed image 
of Saint Mary would not now be lying on the 
ground, and all merry-making at an end, as it 
is to-day in England.” 

“ It is, I trow, a sorrv time for our merrie 
England while groaning under this interdict ; 
but King John will surely receive this arch- 
bishop of the pope’s choosing ere long.” 

“ He will if aught can be gained by it,” said 
the outlaw contemptuously, “ and if not, he will 
hold to his obstinacy until the pope or the bar- 
ons compel him to submit.’^ 

“ The barons ! ” exclaimed Guy as he began 
to collect his wares together, “ do they think of 
the wild scheme of restoring Saxon rule?” 


2 So 


Elfreda. 


‘^Nay; either Saxon or Norman can rob us 
of our liberty, and it will be to secure this — to 
place it beyond the power of such tyrants as 
John — that the barons will rise.” 

To Guy, who had been away from England 
for several years, and knew little of the prog- 
ress of public events, the man's words seemed 
as an idle tale. The king and the barons had 
always united in oppressing the people, and for 
their interests ever to be divided seemed incred- 
ible. He was careful, however, not to let the 
outlaw see that he doubted the correctness of 
his information or conclusions, and, giving the 
leader of the party a knife which he seemed to 
admire, he shouldered his pack once more, and 
took his way through the wood toward his 
brother s castle. 


Bourne Once More. 


281 


CHAPTER XXL 

AT BOURNE ONCE MORE. 

HE visit of a cheapman to the Castle of 



J- Bourne was not an event of frequent oc- 
currence ; and in those days of doublets, and 
gayly plumed hats, and bedizened cloaks, and 
other masculine finery, the men servants and re- 
tainers, as well as the maids and their mistress, 
would hail the coming of the traveling merchant. 
So the portcullis was raised and the draw* bridge 
lowered almost as soon as Guy had winded the 
old horn hanging at the gate, and once more he 
stood in the great hall of his old home. 

It was not easy to play the part of a humble 
packman as he recognized one and another of 
the old retainers, some of whom had carried him 
in their arms when a boy, and had given him 
his first lessons in hawking or bending the bow, 
and holding. the lance. But for Elfreda’s sake, 
as well as his own, he must meet the inquiring 
gaze of each as they asked him the news of the 
day, for to be a successful merchant, he must 
be a social gossip and traveling newsman as 
well. So, while the contents of the pack were 


282 


Elfreda. 


being spread out on the long oaken table, he an- 
swered the questions of one and another as well 
as he could, detailing the scraps of news he had 
been able to collect along the road concerning 
the progress of the war now being waged against 
the Welsh, who had once more revolted from 
English rule. 

It was easy to see that King John was hated 
here as cordially as his brother Richard had been 
loved, and the reason was easily discovered. The 
weak, treacherous monarch lived in continual 
dread that his life would be taken by some of 
his alienated subjects, and so, to secure himself 
against any such treachery on the part of his 
barons, he had compelled them each to send a 
son or daughter as hostag-e to one of the king’s 
royal castles, where they served as pages or 
bower maidens to Queen Isabella ; and Sir Gil- 
bert’s youngest brother, the pet and darling of 
the household, had just been d ragged from them 
by the king’s order to attend the queen, who 
was now imprisoned in Gloucester Abbey. 

'^’Tis a sorrowful household thou hast hap- 
pened upon,” said one of the maids, as she 
looked at a bright-colored kerchief Guy had just 
put down. “ First came the death of our late 
lord, whereat our lady well-nigh broke her heart, 
for he who should have stood in his father’s place 


At Bourne Once More. 283 

was beyond the seas, and a Knight Hospitaler 
to boot ; so there was naught for it but that the 
young Sir Gilbert should rule in his stead. 

‘'And the lady — doth she grieve still that her 
son became a Knight Hospitaler } ” asked Guy 
as the girl suddenly stopped her recital, capti- 
vated by the beauty of a sharp-pointed silver 
bodkin. 

“ Nay, sorer grief hath fallen upon her since, 
for news came from beyond seas that he had 
disgraced the holy order and had died. 

“ And she mourneth his death or his dis- 
grace } ” asked Guy a little anxiously. 

One of the women looked up in his face with 
an arch smile, and said, “ ’Tis easy to see thou 
art not a father or thou wouldst not ask such a 
question. Our lady holdeth that he was unlaw- 
fully degraded, and sorely mourneth for his loss. 
She hath not held up her head since the tidings 
came, and now that her youngest son is taken 
to be page to the prisoned queen, she is as one 
crushed with the weight of her sorrow. And 
our lord. Sir Gilbert, talketh wildly sometimes 
of the barons rising to defend the liberties of 
the people from the tyranny they suffer.” 

But Guy had only half-understood the latter 
part of her speech ; he could think only of his 
mother shut up in her bower, lonely, desolate, 
18 


284 


Elfreda. 


with a burden of anguish well-nigh crushing 
her, and no comforter, no Saviour such as the 
Scriptures revealed, to console her in her great 
affliction. He almost hated the friendly pack 
which had secured his entrance to the castle 
when he saw the articles passed round from 
hand to hand, their qualities and prices dis- 
cussed, and thought of his mother up stairs 
pining in her lonely desolation, and he unable 
to give her one word of comfort. 

At length he resolved to see her at least. 
He had provided himself with a few jewels, which 
he carried in a small case concealed beneath 
his doublet, and he now begged one of the 
maids to inform her mistress of his arrival, and 
to ask her to inspect his wares, as he had a few 
gems to sell that he had just brought from be- 
yond the seas. 

At the mention of their mistress’s coming 
every one laid down their selected bargain, that 
she might have the first choice of the wares, 
for the girl had said, “ If thou dost come from 
beyond the seas my mistress will doubtless see 
thee ; ” and she had gone at once to tell her 
lady, while the falconer and his assistants went 
to attend to the feeding of the hawks and birds 
under their care, and the various household ser- 
vants resumed their labors, leaving the great 


Bourne Once More, 285 

hall in the possession of the packman and a few 
old retainers. 

Guy busied himself in re-arranging his wares 
to hide his emotion, for the thought of so soon 
seeing his widowed mother welhnigh overcame 
all his firmness. 

It was some little time, however, before the 
stately Lady de Valery entered the great hall, 
and it was with evident indifference that she 
came forward and looked at the things dis- 
played on the table. Guy, of course, stood at a 
humble distance while the lady of the castle 
made her inspection, and was thankful that he 
was not required to speak, but could gaze at 
Lis mother in silence for a few minutes. She 
was greatly changed. The fair, proud face was 
deeply lined with care and sorrow, and the 
golden hair was almost white now. Guy could 
with difficulty restrain himself from throwing 
his arms around her when she motioned him to 
come nearer. 

Of course, as a money-making merchant he 
ought to have recommended his goods, and 
praised their peculiar merits and cheapness. 
But poor Guy was quite unequal to this task 
now. He could only name the price of the arti- 
cles the lady selected, and this he did in a sort 
of hoarse whisper, which made the attendant 


286 


Elfreda. 


bower maidens wonder what had suddenly ailed 
the chapman. 

As Lady de Valery, however, was turning 
away Guy made a mighty effort to check back 
his rising sobs, and said, Nay, my lady, thou 
hast not seen all my store.” 

Lady de Valery started, and turned back in- 
stantly as he spoke. She looked scarcely less 
confused than the cheapman now, and the little 
crowd of retainers and bower maidens standing 
at a distance could only stare in open-eyed won- 
der at the strange scene. 

“ I have some gems I would fain show the 
Lady de Valery — gems which I brought from 
across the sea,” continued Guy. 

Thou hast but lately come from beyond the 
seas ? ” said the lady, questioningly. 

‘‘ I have, but tarried a few days in London 
ere I set out for Lincoln and Northampton, 
whose worthy Archdeacon Grosseteste hath 
some knowledge of me.” Guy scarcely knew 
what he said, but as he drew the jewel-case 
from his doublet he leaned forward and said in 
a whisper, '' This Archdeacon Grosseteste knew 
thy son. Sir Guy de Valery, when he was in 
Paris.” 

The lady started, and turned pale ; but she 
understood that the man had some news to im- 


At Bourne Once More. 287 

part concerning her son, and bidding him put 
up the jewels again, she said, I am weary now, 
but tarry awhile and refresh thyself, and I will 
see these jewels anon,” and she turned away, 
followed by her maids. 

Guy was not kept waiting long, for the lady 
was as anxious as he was for this interview ; 
and he had scarcely concluded the meal that 
had been placed ready for him by his mother’s 
command before one of the maids again ap- 
peared, saying her mistress would see him and 
examine the jewels in the bower. 

'How Guy’s heart beat as he once more as- 
cended the narrow stone stairs and approached 
the door of his mother’s room ! 

The lady had sent some of her maids away, 
only two of her oldest attendants being pres- 
ent, and they were silently employed with their 
distaffs in a recess at some distance from where 
their mistress sat. • 

Guy took out the jewel-case, and humbly pre- 
sented the gems on bended knees for the lady’s 
inspection. But she scarcely glanced at them. 

Thou didst see my son — my Guy — before he 
died } ” she said with breathless eagerness. 

Guy bowed his head. 

“ Did — did he think of his mother — charge 
thee with any message for me ? ” she asked. 


288 


Elfreda. 


He was most desirous to send thee word 
concerning a certain curse/’ answered Guy, 
hardly knowing what to say. 

My poor Guy ! he, too, hath fallen a victim 
to the curse of the Ericsons,” said the lady in 
a tone of bitter anguish. 

''Nay, nay, my lady! but Guy knoweth now 
that there is no curse — no curse but sin, and 
that hath been borne by the great Sin-bearer, 
Jesus Christ. Mother, mother, dost thou not 
know me ^ ” and Guy, completely overcome, 
buried his face in her lap, as he used to do when 
a child. 

But the lady neither spoke nor moved, and 
when Guy looked up again he feared that the 
sudden shock had killed her. The maids hur- 
ried forward as he cried for help, and various 
restoratives were applied — feathers burned un- 
der her nostrils, and shavings of hartshorn 
when the milder remedy failed. But with all 
the chafings and bathings and burnings, it was 
nearly an hour before Lady de Valery again 
opened her eyes, and her first words made her 
attendants fear that her mind was affected. 
" Guy 1 Guy I where is my son, Guy ? ” she 
asked feebly ; and Guy, who had thought it pru- 
dent for her sake to retire to a distant corner 
of the room, came forward, to the evident 


Af Boinme Once More. 289 

disgust of the maids, who would have sent him 
away if they dared. Again he kneeled down, 
and took the thin white hand in his, kissing it 
tenderly, as he had often done in the old days 
when he talked hopefully of being a knight, 
and winning his mother s favor at the tourna- 
ment. 

The well-remembered caress proved a far 
more powerful restorative than any that had 
been applied yet, and the lady seemed to throw 
off the remains of her lethargy at once. 

‘^Guy, Guy, let me hold thee in my arms, 
my son ! ” she said, eagerly bending over him. 
'‘They told me thou wert dead, and worse than 
dead — disgraced,’' she whispered. 

Guy trembled as his mother folded her arms 
about him, and for a moment he almost regretted 
that he had undeceived her, for it would be a 
cruel blow to her when she heard that he was 
an outlaw — vrorse, far worse than a robber of 
the forest — an outlaw of the Church. 

But it had to be told after some little time, 
for Lady de Valery, having recovered her con- 
sciousness, questioned him so closely that he 
was obliged to confess at last that he had been 
degraded from his position as a Knight Hos- 
pitaler because he had avowed his belief that 
Christ alone had redeemed him and all men 


290 


Elfreda. 


without the help of saints or angels, and that 
he, of his own pure love and good-will, would 
save all who come to him, without the inter- 
cession of the Virgin mother or any created 
being. 

But, my son, the Church teacheth us that 
it is needful to seek the aid of saints,'' said 
Lady de Valery. 

“ I know it, my mother ; but I know, too, that 
in this, as well as in many other matters, she 
hath departed from the pure teachings of the 
Gospel which she first held. Errors have crept 
in again and again, and instead of casting out 
these stumbling-blocks, which defiled the fount- 
ain of living waters, the Church hath piled them 
up one upon another, well-nigh choking the 
spring, and hiding it from men's eyes while they 
perish with thirst. When our Church hath 
purged herself from the cruelty and treachery 
which she doeth continually, and casts down 
this grim wall of errors and superstitions which 
she hath slowly built up between God and man, 
then will Guy de Valery once more bow to her 
teaching and her authority, but until then he 
will cleave to Christ alone, and be the outlaw 
of the Church." 

Nay, but, my son, thou canst not judge the 
Church ; thou hast but little learning save in the 


At Botmte Once More, 


291 


use of sword and battle-ax. Listen to me, Guy ; 
I have long wished, and now am determined, to 
retire from this, my home, and spend the last 
of my days in penitence and retirement at Crow- 
land. Do thou follow me thither, and seek by 
prayer and fasting to be united to holy Church 
once more.” 

“Nay, mother, it were useless to ask me. 
I have more learning than thou dost think, for 
I retired to a monastery before I became a 
Knight Hospitaler, and spent many hours among 
the books in the monastery library, and — and I 
never can again take monkish vows now that the 
Church hath annulled those already taken, for 
I have married a wife since — one who believes 
with me in Christ and his salvation.” 

Lady de Valery did not ask who this was, for 
her mind instantly reverted to Gilbert, and she 
wondered how he would receive his brother now 
that he had come home to claim his inheritance. 
But Guy quickly relieved her fears upon this 
point. 

“My mother, thou knowest that I am thy 
son Guy ; but to the world I am dead, and must 
remain so. I cannot even bear my lawful name 
of De Valery, but have take thine, my mother, 
and must be known as the humble cheapman, 
Ericson, if I would live in peace.” 


292 


Elfreda. 


Lady de Valery groaned. It was a cruel blow 
to her pride, as well as her love, that her eldest 
— her darling, should be compelled to shelter 
himself under the despised, hated Saxon name ; 
but her love conquered at last, and to see him 
alive, and in the full strength of manhood, was 
joy enough to compensate for all besides, and 
as she looked into his calm, peaceful face, she 
thought God could not have cast off her son 
though the Church had, or he would not wear 
so serene a brow. 

The whisper had already gone forth in the 
castle that the humble cheapman was no other 
than Sir Guy de Valery, but the lady did not 
deem it wise to confirm this at once. She 
would wait until Gilbert returned from his jour- 
ney to the north, and meanwhile Guy could 
stay there as her guest. But this he was un- 
willing to do, for several reasons. It would con- 
firm the suspicions already aroused, and they 
^ would speedily have a visit from Crowland 
Minster that might prove unpleasant in its 
consequences. 

So, after spending one night at his old ances- 
tral home, Guy shouldered his pack once more 
and went on to Lincoln, and thence to North- 
ampton, for he had heard that his friend Grosse- 
teste, who was studying at the University of 


At Bourne Once More. 


293 


Paris while he was staying there, and with 
whom he had formed an intimate friendship, 
had lately been appointed archdeacon, and he 
was anxious to see him and discover, if possible, 
where he and Elfreda could fix their home with 
the least fear of discovery. He wished to set- 
tle this point before returning to London or 
paying another visit to Bourne, for he was anx- 
ious to remove Elfreda to a place of safety, and 
also to assure his brother that he had no inten- 
tion of claiming his inheritance. 


294 


Elfreda. 


CHAPTER XXIL 

CONCLUSION. 

I T was sad to pass along the road and see the 
crosses thrown down, and the sacred images 
lying with their faces to the ground. It was a 
terrible evidence of the ruthless power of that 
Church, as well as of its injustice, that it could 
thus terrify the superstitious fears of an entire 
nation, and lay a heavy burden of guilt upon 
their consciences, while the only offender, be- 
cause of his lofty position, was allowed to go un- 
punished, and carry out his tyrannous and iniq- 
uitous plans. King John cared little for the 
interdict that the pope had laid on his land 
since it did not affect him ; but now far-seeing 
men began to ask each other in cautious whispers 
whether there was no remedy for their nation's 
troubles. Since the sight of his people's suffer- 
ings did not move King John to comply with the 
demand of the pope, and since the pope seemed 
to care nothing for the rights of Englishmen so 
long as his own power was maintained, would it 
not be well to try some other mode of securing 
and preserving their liberties ? 


Conclusion. 


29s 


Wherever Guy went there was the same anx- 
ious stir in men’s minds. The interdict, which 
had at first fallen upon them as a crushing ca- 
lamity, was growing less irksome as things went 
on, but the incessant outbreaks of cruelty and 
treachery on the part of their despicable monarch 
kept the nation alive to their need of some bul- 
wark for their liberties. Every-where the eyes 
of the masses were turned toward the great 
barons, many of whom ruled as petty kings 
over their respective districts ; for their rights 
were as often invaded, and their families dis- 
graced, as those of the most insignificant hench- 
men. 

At Lincoln and at Northampton, as well 
as at all the towns that lay along the route, 
there were the same whispers, and Guy feared 
that unless the king changed his policy En- 
gland would soon be distracted by a great civil 
war. 

At Northampton he found his friend Grosse- 
teste. This famous priest and scholar had re- 
cently come from Paris, but because of the in- 
terdict could not as yet be inducted into his 
office as archdeacon. With him Guy spent sev- 
eral welcome hours. And now a hope dawned 
in his heart that England might yet possess the 
blessing for which the Vaudois Church now suf- 


296 


Elfreda. 


fered so bitterly, for the archdeacon was as full 
of plans for reforming the Church as ever Guy 
could be. Contrary to all his clerical brethren, 
he advocated the study of the Scriptures, and 
had himself commenced a translation of the 
psalms into the language of the people. This 
was really a needful undertaking, for the old 
Saxon version by King Alfred was fast becom- 
ing obsolete because of the many changes in the 
language. He would put down the Feast of 
Fools at Epiphany, and the drinking of scot 
ales in the churches wherever he could, and so 
Guy left Northampton with the full determi- 
nation to return again shortly, and, if Elfreda 
liked the place, they would settle there ; for un- 
der the protection of the liberal-minded Gros- 
seteste there would be less fear of persecution 
on account of their peculiar opinions. 

To Elfreda all places were alike, so that Guy 
was not far from her side, and so they soon 
moved to Northampton, and when comfortably 
settled Guy went to pay another visit to Bourne. 
Gilbert was anxiously expecting him, and find- 
ing him fully determined not to claim his inher- 
itance, he insisted upon his receiving a tithe for 
all the lands of Bourne. 

I shall never marry,” said Gilbert ; '' I mean 
to devote myself to the freeing this our merrie 


Conclusion. 2C)J 

England from the power of such tyrants as 
King John.” 

“ How dost thou purpose doing this } ” asked 
Guy, a little anxiously. 

Gilbert shook his head. Adelais’ husband, 
as well as several other barons, would proclaim 
a war ; thou didst hear that our sister married 
our old foe, De Grantham 1 ” 

It were well to end all feuds thus,” said 
Guy with a smile ; but what sayest thou to De 
Grantham’s proposal ” he asked. 

'' That the time is not ripe for it. These 
people of England are moved but slowly even 
to redress their wrongs, and I would advocate 
peaceable measures. Didst thou ever meet with 
this archbishop, who dare not set foot in the 
realm, whom the pope hath appointed and the 
king will not accept 1 He is an Englishman, it 
is said.” 

‘‘ Yes, Stephen Langton is an Englishman — 
was a fellow-student with Pope Innocent, but 
will not prove his easy tool. I have seen one 
who knows him well, and who says Langton’s 
sympathies are neither with the pope nor the 
king in this quarrel, but he pities the poor op- 
pressed people who suffer under this interdict.” 

Gilbert looked at his brother in amazement. 
“What shall we hear next!” he exclaimed; 


298 


Elfreda. 


this archbishop joining the barons would be 
scarcely less than wonderful. But now about our 
lady mother. Since thy visit she seems more 
than ever determined to retire to a convent, 
talks about her pride being the curse of the fam- 
ily, and resolution to conquer it by a life of pov- 
erty. What sayest thou ? 

‘‘ I would that she could be persuaded to stay 
here and govern thy household until thou dost 
bring home a wife,” said Guy. 

But this Lady de Valery could by no means 
be persuaded to do. She needed humbling for 
her sins, and so she would retire to a convent, 
to spend the remainder of her life in fasting and 
penitence. After some little time, however, 
she consented to change her original purpose so 
far that she would go for a year only at first, and 
that the Abbey of Northampton should be her 
place of retirement instead of Crowland ; for 
Guy thought if he could be near his mother to 
converse with her frequently he might be able to 
lead her to the feet of the Saviour, instead of 
having the pain of knowing she was bowing to 
a host of vain mediators. 

So when her household was set in order Lady 
de Valery retired to Northampton, where she 
met Elfreda, but only half forgave her for per- 
suading Guy to break his allegiance to the 


Conchcsion. 


299 


Church. She comforted herself, however, with 
the thought, that if she passed the remainder 
of her days in penance and prayer the super- 
abundant merit of these good works would sure- 
ly suffice to win Guy’s salvation at last ; while 
Guy was equally sure that in his frequent visits 
to his mother, and the enlightened teaching of 
Grosseteste, who was to be her confessor, she 
would soon learn to abandon these vain services 
and put her trust in Christ alone. 

So the year of probation which Lady de Val- 
ery had agreed upon passed away, and nothing 
beyond the gradual enlightenment of the lady’s 
mind happened to disturb or elate Guy, who 
lived in the strictest retirement, carefully avoid- 
ing all interference with public matters. 

Not so Gilbert. He was foremost among the 
barons who openly expressed their dissatisfac- 
tion with the king’s policy, and when the pope, 
finding that the interdict laid upon the king- 
dom had no effect upon the rebellious monarch, 
and the excommunication published in Rome 
could not be served upon John in person, and 
therefore was null and void, adopted another and 
more effectual plan for bringing him to submis- 
sion. He absolved John’s vassals from their 
oaths of fealty, and called upon all Christian 

princes and barons to assist in dethroning him. 

19 


300 


Elfreda. 


The favorable opportunity had come at last, 
thought some, when they heard the startling 
news, and once more men began to look for the 
barons to take action at once ; but Guy gravely 
shook his head and set off to Bourne without 
delay, for he was anxious to see his brother be- 
fore he took council with the neighboring 
barons. 

He was only just in time, for Gilbert was 
already preparing to set out on a journey to 
confer upon the advisability of striking a blow 
for freedom, and his men-at-arms were busily 
polishing armor and sharpening battle-axes 
when Guy appeared. 

‘'Thou wilt join us in this, Guy.^” said his 
brother eagerly when they were left alone 
together. 

But Guy shook his head. “ Nay, nay,” he 
said. “I would not help to enslave my coun- 
try — I would that I could set her free.” 

“And is it not for freedom we would com- 
bine against our cruel tyrant ? ” asked Gilbert 
hotly. 

“To free yourselves in this way will be to 
sell yourselves bondsmen to Rome,” replied 
Guy. “ If thou and the rest of England’s 
barons obey this mandate of the pope, who can 
tell what the next may be } and if the barons 


Conclusion, 30I 

can revolt at the will of the pope, kings can 
trample on their people likewise/' 

It was not easy at first to convince Gilbert 
of the fact that the gradual encroachments of 
the all-powerful Church were subverting the 
liberty of each individual soul, as well as draw- 
ing supreme power to the pontiff, and making 
him in very truth what he claimed to be, king 
of kings and lord of lords." He had not seen 
the exhibition of cruel persecution that Guy 
had; but when he heard the story of Count 
Raymond's wrongs, he at once gave up the pro- 
ject he had formed, and promised to endeavor 
to persuade his friends to do the same, and wait 
and watch the course of public events. 

They did not have to wait long before there 
was a call for action. King Philip of France, 
who had succeeded in wresting all John's con- 
tinental possessions from him, was only too 
ready to obey Pope Innocent. What mattered 
it to him that the price of these conquests was 
the freedom of his national Church, which had 
bravely struggled against the innovations of 
Rome. Fair, fertile Languedoc was owned by 
one of his barons now, and was in vassalage to 
him ; and if England could be made an ap- 
panage of the French crown a fresh source of 
wealth would be added to his revenue ; and for 


302 


Elfreda. 


these material gifts he was quite willing to let 
Pope Innocent appoint what bishops he pleased 
to rule in the Church of France, or change the 
ritual, and add a few more doctrines for his 
subjects to believe in. 

So the news was soon wafted across the sea 
that King Philip was collecting a formidable 
army to invade England, and that, strength- 
ened by the pope’s command and blessing, he 
expected to gain an easy victory. 

This thoroughly aroused John’s fears. He 
at once dispatched an envoy to propitiate Pope 
Innocent and promise his submission, and then 
set about his preparations to resist his old 
enemy. It was easier to collect an army to re- 
sist Philip than that monarch supposed, know- 
ing, as he doubtless did, that John was cordially 
hated by his subjects, and would gladly have 
seen him destroyed. 

But the dethronement of John meant En- 
gland’s subjugation to France, and the English 
knew that their land would then be drained 
of its resources, taxes imposed, and commerce 
checked, merely that France might be enriched. 
The loss of Normandy, Anjou, and the other con- 
tinental provinces which had been the heredit- 
ary right of each sovereign since the conquering 
William had won the English crown, had been 


Conclusion, 


303 


a severe blow to the national pride ; but men 
were beginning to learn that it was not an un- 
mitigated misfortune, for the money lavished in 
Normandy was now circulating in England, and 
she was beginning to have an independent life, 
instead of being a mere appan'age of these 
larger territorial possessions All these consid- 
erations helped John very materially, and he 
had soon collected an army of sixty thousand 
men, and sent forth the Cinque Ports’ fleet, 
which destroyed several French vessels. 

The English army was encamped near Do- 
ver, to be in readiness for the landing of Philip, 
when Jolm’s messenger to Rome returned, and 
with him the papal legate, Pandulph, to receive 
his promised submission. 

The legate was most successful in arousing 
the cowardly monarch’s fears concerning the re- 
sources of Philip and the certainty of his suc- 
cess, and that the only way to secure himself 
from the impending danger was to place himself 
under the protection of the pontiff. 

John’s submission was as abject as his ob- 
stinacy had been determined. In the Temple 
Church of Dover he kneeled down in the sight 
of his assembled barons and soldiers, and, with 
his hands between the legate’s, solemnly re- 
peated this oath : — 


304 


Elfreda. 


‘‘ I, John, by the grace of God king of En- 
gland and lord of Ireland, in order to expiate 
my sins, from my own free will and the advice 
of my barons give to the Church of Rome, to 
Pope Innocent and his successors, the kingdom 
of England and all other prerogatives of my 
crown. I will hereafter hold them as the pope’s 
vassal. I will be faithful to God, to the Church 
of Rome, and to the pope, my master, and his 
successors. I promise to pay him a tribute of a 
thousand marks yearly, to wit : seven hundred 
for the kingdom of England, and three hundred 
for the kingdom of Ireland.” 

Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was 
also to be received, as well as all the bishops 
who had been banished by John, and the Church 
property was all to be restored. Thus in the self- 
same day was England sold, and the champion of 
her liberty ignominiously thrust upon her. Had 
Pope Innocent only known Stephen Langton 
as the stern, indomitable Englishman he proved 
to be, he would rather have made the stipula- 
tion that he should never be allowed to enter 
his native land again. But the craftiest politi- 
cians overreach themselves sometimes, as the 
pope did in this appointment. 

After receiving John’s submission, and keep- 
ing his resigned crown three days, the papal 


Conclusion. 


305 


legate restored it in the name of his master, and 
withdrew the excommunication and interdict, 
promising also that Philip of France should not 
be allowed to disturb the peace of England. The 
barons returned home rather sulky, as well as 
more disgusted with John, for they each felt that 
they were but pawns on the chess-board of 
Europe, and could be moved by the master- 
hand of the pope at his will, and there was a 
deeper determination than ever to assert their 
claim to liberty now that England was reduced 
to vassalage by her king. 

The feeling that had been slowly growing, 
however, smoldered on for two years longer, 
and might not have burst forth into action 
when it did had not the king tried to force 
his barons to engage in a war he chose to de- 
clare against France. This they refused to do, 
and met in a council at St. Alban's, and re- 
solved that the laws of Henry I. should be 
observed. 

Guy was still living at Northampton, and 
the young archdeacon, Grosseteste, was busy 
reforming various abuses that came under his 
care, preaching from the Gospel itself instead 
of teaching the legends of the saints, so that 
Guy began to indulge the hope that his beloved 
land might yet be rescued from the tyrannical 


Elfreda. 


306 

power of Rome, more especially as Langton 
had promised to help the barons in their strug- 
gle for liberty. 

Never until now had Guy regretted the loss 
of his inheritance ; but it was a sore trial when 
a second meeting was called in the Church of 
St. Paul’s, London, where the archbishop boldly 
came forward and read the great charter of 
Henry, and administered to those present an 
oath, binding them to conquer or die in the 
defense of their liberties. 

There was a humble cheapman among the 
crowd of citizens who thronged the back of the 
church, who as devoutly took that vow in his 
heart as any baron, and was at his brother’s 
side in every emergency and moment of vac- 
illation, for it was a perilous adventure in 
which they were now engaged ; and at a third 
meeting held at Bury St. Edmunds, each baron 
took an oath upon the altar to withdraw his alle- 
giance from King John should he reject their 
claims. Their demands were presented to the 
king early in January, 1215, and they were 
promised an answer at Easter. 

But the barons had little doubt as to what 
this was likely to be by the measures the king 
at once began to set on foot. To gain the gopd 
will of the clergy— many of \yt^p.m were foreign- 


Conclusion. 


307 


ers — he granted them at once the charter of 
free election. He then ordered the sheriffs to 
take the oath of allegiance to his person from 
every free man ; enrolled himself as a crusader; 
and hired mercenaries from Flanders to subdue 
his refractory subjects should they side with the 
barons. 

Both parties sent off their envoys to Rome. 
Pope Innocent preferred to side with the king, 
and sent a letter to Archbishop Langton, blam- 
ing him as the mover of this sedition, and com- 
manding him to make peace between the con- 
tending parties. This, however, he could not 
do as required. He therefore determined to 
adhere to the oath he had administered to the 
barons, though it cost him the friendship of the 
pontiff and the loss of his see. 

As had been expected, John sought by evasion 
to get rid of the troublesome claims brought 
before him ; but the measures of the barons, 
though of slow growth, were of giant strength. 
So, conscious of their power, the barons at 
once threatened, and even commenced, hos- 
tilities by taking London. This brought the 
king to terms, and the two parties agreed to 
meet at a little islet called Runnymede, between 
Staines and Windsor. 

John was accompanied by eight bishops and 


3o8 


Elfreda. 


a few gentlemen, who had a small camp on one 
side, while on the other were pitched the pavil- 
ions of nearly all England’s noblemen, with 
the Archbishop of Canterbury at their head. 
Brave, true-hearted Stephen Langton, he had 
all to lose and nothing to gain by thus step- 
ping foreward as the champion of English lib- 
erty, and well might the barons be proud and 
confident with such a man to lead them. 

Again the humble cheapman was near, hov- 
ering about the pavilions ; and if he had been 
closely watched, he might have been seen to 
retire more than once to a little shady dell — 
not to look over his pack and count his gains, 
but to pour out his heart in prayer to God that 
this first effort to gain something like liberty 
for his country might be successful. Not that 
men so humble as Guy Ericson would gain 
much by it just yet. It was for the De Valerys 
and other proud nobles to profit by this, but it 
was a beginning, Guy thought, and by and by 
the blessing would come down on all classes 
of the community, until at length the lowest and 
poorest might claim as his right what the proud- 
est baron had been made to feel lately he only 
held at the king’s pleasure — the liberty to hold 
or sell property at their own will, and that they 
should not be cast into prison or outlawed ex- 


Conclusion. 


309 


cept by judgment of their peers, according to 
the law of the land. In many a castle home, too, 
there were prayers being offered by wives and 
mothers and sisters, who had buckled on the 
armor, and sent forth their dearest to win or 
die for this liberty ; but none were more true or 
earnest than rose from a little retired home 
near Northampton Abbey. 

There were only two women here ; but two 
more earnest souls lived not in England : for one 
had witnessed scenes that struck a chill of horror 
to her even now, and the other was fast tasting of 
that liberty wherewith Christ makes his people 
free, and looking back upon that bitter bondage 
in which she had lived for years. She too. 
therefore, longed that others might know and 
be free to proclaim the blessed Gospel message 
of salvation without fear. 

To the intense joy of Elfreda and Lady de 
Valery, Guy returned almost sooner than he 
was expected, bringing with him the good news 
that the king had signed the Great Charter, 
which must prove the foundation of English 
liberty ; and the next day, closely wrapped in 
mufflers, they went with Guy to hear it read to 
the vast crowd who had assembled in the mar- 
ket place to hear it. But neither of the women 
heard more than the first clause: ‘'That the 


310 


Elfreda. 


Church of England shall be free, and enjoy her 
whole rights and privileges inviolable.” There 
were seventy-two clauses, each necessary, Guy 
said, to protect those to whom they referred 
from extortion and oppression. The Church, 
the barons, the merchants, and freemen gener- 
ally, would be protected by this charter, but for 
the rest of the people they were little better than 
slaves at present. 

And here I must conclude this faint attempt 
I have made, to show how that power of the 
Church, which was at first grasped and used for 
the protection of the oppressed, had, through 
the pride and ambition of successive pontiffs, 
grown to be a mighty engine of cruel and op- 
pressive wrong, and that for earnest souls who 
sought to learn what the will of God was, there 
was no room within her pale ; but, like the 
Vaudois of Languedoc, they were hunted to 
take refuge in the fastnesses of mountains or 
recesses of caverns ; or, like Guy de Valery, 
compelled to leave all they held most dear, and 
under a fictitious name and obscure rank seek 
to escape the notice of their enemies. And 
what the Church of Rome was when she insti- 
tuted the odious inquisition in Languedoc, and 
sent forth Simon de Montfort on his bloody 
crusade, she is to-day. If she only had the 


Conclusion. 


311 

power she then possessed, England and Amer- 
ica, as well as every other Protestant country, 
would soon be laid under an interdict ; but, 
thank God ! she can only issue impotent threats 
while she proclaims her infallibility. Christians 
must see to it that she never does more than 
this. 





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